CHAPTER NINETEEN
Griffin
M y blood runs cold when I see Ava collapse to the carpet. A rush I’ve never known pulses through me.
Something flashes in front of my eyes and I’m back on that obstacle course. Hearing her fighting off Miller, I raced up the instructor’s ladder. She wasn’t screaming for help. No... Ava didn’t want help, that badass.
That was Hadleigh , though.
I knew what she was capable of back then, her stellar performance in BUD/S always left me stunned watching her. But in that moment on the platform, all I saw was a woman under a six-foot-four beast trying to stick his hands inside her camo pants and I fucking lost it.
I’d never pulled a gun on that assignment until that day. Snarling, I raised the barrel to Miller’s head, and fuck, I wanted to pull that trigger.
There’s no gun to pull right now.
I only have my hands. I sink the floor next to Ava, and while I want to yank her against my chest, I think she’s too traumatized. “You’re okay, Ava. You’re safe.”
“I started believing I’d die,” she whispers. “And that no one was looking for me.”
“I was looking for you,” I admit softly. “For months.”
“To do your deal.”
“Aye, yes. I had no idea you were Hadleigh.” I shake my head.
And I’m not sure what I would have done or said differently had I known exactly who that bastard Brandon was keeping locked up.
“We moved around a lot,” she says, offering me a reason why no one could get a lock on where she was. Accepting why it took so long.
Hearing the front door open and the familiar cadence of my brothers’ voices, I lift Ava to her feet. “Come on. Don’t let Connor and Shane see you like this.”
Her eyes widen. “Huh?”
“They think you’re a knife-wielding, psychopathic, badass.”
She scoffs and lets me lift her. “I am.”
“I get that.” I hold her face. “I get you. I’m not the enemy. Even though I want to ring your neck for leaving me tied up in that motel room.”
She dips her chin with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Clearly, I made it out unscathed.” With my arm around her shoulder, I call out to my brothers instead. “We’re in here.”
The door opens and those brats stride into the office with Rhys.
“Trace said he’ll be here tomorrow,” Rhys, my top assassin, says about his brother.
“He just got married, he can take a few days off,” I tell him.
“Got a honeymoon planned down the road.” Rhys looks at Ava and dips his head. “Miss Zervas.”
“That’s my enforcer’s second, Rhys Quinlan. His brother Trace is the one who got married today. You’ll meet him.” I give Ava a once-over. Regret for the whole trunk thing hits me. “Trace and Rhys will arrange a guard for you.”
She groans, staring at the ceiling, but wisely doesn’t vocally protest.
A loud knock on the front door turns all of our eyes that way. Sounds like trouble, but that’s what I have guards for.
Shane checks the camera, and smirking at me, he says, “We have company.”
“Bad company.” Connor rocks on his heels. “The Greek kind.”
“Hey! Ava is Greek,” I snap, snagging her hand. “Have some respect.”
I steer her out of the office, my brothers and Rhys on my six, but I halt, seeing Ares Zervas in my foyer.
Ava gives a heavy audible swallow, and I wait for her to break into a run, to jump into his arms the way both my sisters have with us in the past, the way Shea O’Rourke has with her brothers.
Ava. Doesn’t. Move.
Something is wrong.
“Ava,” Ares says with hands in his pockets. “You look like shit.”
Anger bubbles in my throat. “I found her in a fucking cage,” I bark.
Only Ares looks at me like that’s my fault.
“Ares,” Ava says, her back straightening. Shrugging from my hold, she ambles softly to him.
Ares, who stands as tall as me, but looks lean, bends down to kiss his sister on both cheeks. “I’m glad you’re home.”
My hands curl into fists at some misplaced jealousy.
“I’m not home.” She steps back. “I want...”
The room goes silent waiting to hear what she wants. I know I’m on fucking pins and needles.
Damn, Ava, what DO you want, woman?
Except to kill me.
Although, I think she’s already bored with that. Doesn’t mean I won’t be sleeping with one eye open, or her arms tied down.
“Yes, Ava?” Her brother patronizes her. “What do you want?”
“I thought I’d be going home.” She crosses her arms, one of her toes tapping on the floor impatiently.
“This will be your home when you’re married.” Ares peers at me. “And that will be when, Quinlan?”
Now I’m like Ava, hoping somewhere deep in my brain this wedding won’t happen. That some miracle will rear up and peace will magically happen without taking this drastic step.
In the past few months, the whispered announcement to all the capos on both sides has eased tensions. The ones who still stir up trouble are Keller loyalists. And they will be dealt with. Those who out and out tell me to go fuck my mother, only some Irish brat would say that, will end up dead.
“Depends on how big of a party you want it to be,” I lob that serve to Ares.
“I would suggest the traditional Orthodox—”
“Ugh,” Ava whines. “No.”
“Those churches are booked for months anyway,” Ares finishes with a lazy tolerance for his sister.
Ask for a miracle...
“Aunt Lena will want to plan it,” Ava says, biting non-existent nails.
I hate this version of her because it’s so different from Hadleigh, who I know is in there somewhere. Fuck, that’s who I want. And I know that’s who she is deep inside.
“With Ava home now, Ares, I’d like to do a family meeting with your brothers about what to do with Brandon’s body.”
Connor gives me a side-eye. “What’s left of him.”
“Who killed him?” Ares asks. “I want details on how you murdered him if he’s in pieces.”
I tilt my head to Ava, giving her credit.
“ I killed him.” She slowly raises her hand. “With his own knife. I shredded him for what he did to me. Me.” With every sentence her fire roars to life.
There she is...
Fuck, her anger turns me on.
“Then your years in the military paid off,” Ares says and glances at me ready to keep discussing our meeting.
Dismissing her.
No one dismisses my wife .
I ball my hands into fists and lay a death stare on this Greek king. Jesus, I have to teach these Zervas Gods how to be human.
“Ava,” he begins, catching my demand that he respect her. And that it will come with the force of my fist if I have to do it twice. “I’m proud of you. And I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”
“Fuck, Zervas, that almost sounds sincere.” Connor grips his shoulder. “There’s hope for you yet.”
“Remove your hand from me or I remove it from your body,” Ares sneers, cold and calculating.
Connor lifts his hand, smirking. These two will get along. Ares has a club and that’s Connor’s jam.
“As I was saying...” I clear my throat to get their attention. “The meeting to discuss how we announce Brandon’s death—”
“I’ll have an assistant send you my schedule,” Ares interrupts me.
He’s got an assistant? Damn, I need one, I guess.
“Give it to me right now,” I say. “I’m not playing email tag with you. Tomorrow, here, noon. The guy’s mother is still alive and needs to be dealt with. Who the hell knows who she’s connected to.”
“I’m not free tomorrow,” Ares says in that cool English accent.
“Clear your schedule, Zervas.” I grip Ava’s hand. “I saved your fucking sister’s life today.”
“You found her, but it sounds like she saved her own life,” he taunts me.
“Two guards were rushing back to the building.” Shane pipes up from across the room. “One of the guards on duty sent them a signal. They had orders to rape and kill her if Brandon died.”
“We have those guards in a holding cell, thinking about what they want their last meals to be,” Connor adds.
“Ava, Aunt Lena’s maid is packing up your clothes and a courier will bring them here.” Ares ignores me, staring at her. “Although, you’ve lost a lot of weight. Much of it won’t fit you anymore.” He takes out his wallet. “Here is my credit card.”
I slap it out of his hand, the plastic snapping against the marble foyer tiles. “I’ll take care of what she needs.”
Ares growls, but to be a peacekeeper, Shane picks up the card. “Guys. We’re family.”
“Not yet.” Ares rips the card from Shane, then stares at his phone. “Atlas and I can meet you tomorrow at two-thirty, my club’s office.”
“I’ll do two-thirty, but here in my office. Where your sister will be living.”
Ares’ jaw jumps. “I’d like to speak to my sister alone, if possible.”
This is exhausting, and I need another drink. That Jameson from the wedding has long worn off.
“Give me a minute.” I turn to go into my kitchen where Bridget is putting away a new set of cookware that I apparently needed. “Hi. I know this is short notice. Can you cook something for about five people?”
More if Ava’s other brothers show up to see their damn sister.
“I can have a pot roast ready in an hour with mashed potatoes and string beans,” she says, smiling.
“Perfect.”
I turn my back on the one woman in this house who I don’t worry will take a meat cleaver to my head.