CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WELLS
T he elation resonating throughout the sprawling apartment and the man-child pileup on Ivy are endearing, but my wife needs to breathe, for Christ’s sake. And we’ve got other topics to discuss, whether she wants to or not.
“All right, all right. Off!” I bark, shoving them all away while they howl and Ivy spurs them on with her giggles.
House-hunting has become a coping mechanism for my grieving wife.
I’ve appreciated the distraction as well actually.
Losing the man who was more than a father to both of us is a constant ache.
But Ivy, she’s been lost to herself. Tossing and turning all night.
Barely eating. Indulging in uncharacteristic day drinking.
And disappearing into wherever it is she ventures.
It’s new. That much I know. Her mind vacations used to drip with contentment, but lately, her face contorts into that of a tortured inmate.
So, this—her giggles and joy engulfing me—is a tactile gift I want to bathe in, but there isn’t time today. There’s never been enough time.
It takes a beat for them all to settle down—mutterings of La Lune Noire and the house, plans for the land and more cars floating through the air—but the guys are aware of the purpose of this meeting and the intensity it will hold, so my leer eventually snaps them to attention.
Ty glances at me with a reluctant jerk of his chin, so I launch us into what is sure to be a heated debate.
Twisting toward Ivy, I sweep her hair behind her shoulder, tucking her—thankfully red again—wisps behind her ear. “We need to discuss some things—”
“I know,” she breaks in, her hands flying into the air. “But I’ve told you, Wells, I need to look them in their eyes and do it my way.”
My knuckles dust over her cheek, and I note the heat already rising to the surface. “That’s not all we want to talk about and not where we want to begin.” Although we’ll be circling back to it.
“Oh, what then?” Her tone is instantly placid, her big blue doe eyes scanning all of us.
Ty averts his gaze, but I don’t think she notices. Her distracted mind has sullied her observational skills, which is favorable at the moment because …
Fucker.
I massage her neck, kneading a kink as I anticipate the tensing of her other muscles with the conversation.
“Your induction into KORT tonight will elevate you to one of the most powerful women in the world, Ives. The danger that’s been lingering around you, but always kept at bay, won’t dissipate.
It will intensify. We want to prepare for that. ”
She nods with a pensive scrunch of her forehead. “So, what? Are you banning me to our massive pad in Louisiana, giving up your lives to babysit me, or vetting soldiers to guard me twenty-four/seven?” Her scenarios drip sarcasm, but she isn’t far off from the life she’s about to encounter.
I throw a handful of Sour Skittles in my mouth, needing the tart sugar rush to sustain me. “We’d like to avoid such extremes and explore a different route.”
She waves her hand around, mouth agape, in a hurry-it-up-jackass gesture.
Fantastic. This should land famously since she’s so amenable.
Liam chokes on a laugh, saluting me with the bottleneck of a beer he just opened.
Gage backhands him in the chest for me, so I’m spared flipping him off.
It all makes Ty more anxious and Ivy more annoyed, so I rip off the Band-Aid.
“We’d like you to get a tracking chip.”
She cackles and claps her hands, like it’s the funniest joke she’s heard in years. “Like a dog, right? Or one of those dancing penguins?”
“Dancing penguins?” I ask, utterly bemused.
“ Happy Feet ,” Ty supplies, which explains nothing, but Ivy shoots her index finger toward him in validation. Their weird movie game. Whatever.
I shake my head, fingers digging into that knot in her neck until she arches in search of more. “Not quite like that.”
Her eyes trail over each of us, alarm seizing her when she notes the gravity in our expressions. “Fuck me, you’re serious. You’ve all lost your damn minds.”
She straightens her spine with a disgust that rolls off her in waves as she pings Ty with a pointed glower. My brilliant girl can always spot the chink in armor.
“You cannot be on board with this. It’s insane, a complete violation. Please reason with him.” She throws a hitchhiker thumb in my direction.
I wasn’t alone in this idea. Thanks.
Ty’s eyes close on a heavy breath before locking on to Ivy with the kindhearted empathy only he can deliver. “I do agree with that—or I did. But everything has changed. This is the only way we can give you any sort of freedom. Otherwise … someone could take you in seconds, Freckles. I just—”
“You’ll be able to hang out with Celeste and Rena.” Liam swigs his beer with a leisure the rest of us haven’t attained. “Shop with your mom. Go to a salon. Visit galleries.”
“So, if you put a chip in me—” She scoffs, her lips pursing bitterly, like she’s gulping down her own vomit. “I can’t believe I’m even humoring you all right now.” Her eyes flutter in an adorable bratty indignation. “Anyway, the chip means I don’t have to be guarded? ”
“Nope,” Gage snipes with all the finesse of a rhinoceros at a goddamn tea party. “Not what it means. We’ll still be with you all the time because people will be trying to fucking. Kill! You!”
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss, palming Ivy’s head so she peers at me. “Look, baby, this is the best way we can protect you. Your phone and car aren’t enough because, as you know, those can be easily ditched.”
She cackles again, maniacally. “Yeah. Exactly. Let’s not forget, I outran you . I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
Ty hands me a glass of scotch, which I gladly take, chugging a hefty swill before rebutting. “We are well aware of how fierce you are, but … Jesus , Little Storm, I won’t be able to rest.”
“No.” She crosses her arms with an obstinate huff. So damn petulant.
“I’m not really asking,” I growl through my clenched jaw, to which Ty shoots me an admonishing glare.
Wait till I haul her into the dentist and put it in her goddamn tooth, motherfucker. Then, you can glare.
The room falls silent, aside from the incessant thumping of Ivy’s swinging foot against the couch, legs and arms crossed, completely closed off, like she’s envisioning slamming that heel into my nose.
She springs up, pours herself a shot of Ty’s spiced rum, downs it smoothly, and tilts her head with a wicked grin. “Okay, I’ll do it, under one condition.”
“Name it,” Ty says far too quickly.
Liam, Gage, and I share a dubious eye roll. Pushover. Rookie mistake with the Little Storm because in two seconds, she’s going to pummel him through that open door.
“You all have to get one,” she says.
And there it is. Decimation at its finest. He never saw it coming.
“The fuck?” Gage spits, choking on his bourbon.
Fucking hell. Fuel on the fire and providing the damn kindling. Morons.
“Oh,” she shrieks, eyes wild and tempestuous, hands flailing, “let me get this straight. It’s okay to put a tracking device inside my body, but in my husband, who holds the same position, or in the men who have the coveted roles of our most essential counsel, it’s a what-the-fuck kind of idea?
Well, there’s your damn answer, Big Guy. ”
She struts into the kitchen, violently uncorking a bottle of wine and pouring herself a glass, the deep merlot complementing her flushed scarlet complexion.
Her face is alight in satisfaction though; she’s always content to dominate an argument.
That is, until she freezes at the bomb Liam drops on us all.
“I’ll do it,” he says so breezily that it’s as though he were volunteering to pick up groceries.
Her brows knit in an odd marriage of skepticism and wonderment. She sets the wineglass on the counter with a swish. “You will?”
“Would it help you sleep better, knowing if something bad happened, you could find me?” he asks, maintaining his nonchalant stance, feet outstretched and crossed at the ankles, beer dangling between his index finger and thumb.
I’m not certain he’s resolved to get himself the tracker, although the offer appears to be in earnest. But either way, the gesture drives our desperate need home, especially with the mention of sleeping better.
This isn’t how we planned it, but if it works, I’ll be forever indebted to him.
She swallows and nods, so he shrugs, saying, “Then, yeah. Of course I would.”
I see it swarm her—the grief from losing her father. It knocks her down like a tsunami when she least expects it. Jumping up, I hustle over to her, scooping her into my arms with a kiss on her button nose.
She tangles her arms behind my neck in a pretzel weave, so leveled by her inner torment of placing blame on herself for her parents’ kidnapping that she sags against me, whispering, “I get it. I do, but …”
Her pain and Liam’s question illuminate what should have been glaring me in the face. She fears losing me— any of us —as much as I do her .
I glance back at Liam with an appreciative grin. We exchange a brief nod before my lips brush over Ivy’s ear. “I’ll get one too.”
Her eyes flit to mine, a single note of her grief splashing her cheek with a hitched inhale. “Really?”
“Really.” My arms are still coiled around her, fingers skating over the nape of her neck and exposed skin on her hip. “I should have suggested it at the beginning. I love you, Ives. I need to know you’re safe, and I’m happy to give you that same peace of mind.”
I carry her back to the couch to finish our discussion. Her breathing finally evens out as I snuggle her against me.
Ty sighs. “I’m in.”
And Ivy bites back a smile, aware of the huge concession that is for him, for all of us.
“Fucking dumbass shit idea,” Gage snarls. “What if the tracking falls into the wrong person’s hands or we need to fucking disappear? You know, like we’ve all done a time or two?”
Valid points.