Chapter 34
I spent an hour and a half in agony, not knowing if I’d get here too late. Wondering if I’d ever have her in my arms again, safe. And I find her here, head held high, kicking that bastard in the nuts.
Luther is buckled over, humiliated in his own house by a woman he thought he owned.
I need her out of here, but while Luther is doubled over, her green eyes connect with mine, and she shakes her head before Luther looks up again. She pushes her hand down, toward the ground as if to say stop.
She doesn’t want me here?
She came here with a plan, and I don't know what it is, but I asked her to trust me.
And I have to trust her.
Fuck I love her. Please God, give me a chance to tell her that.
Luther stands up again, looking stronger but still sucking air through his teeth. She’s a fucking strong one, my woman.
But I need one of the boys here with me, eyes on Delilah instead of being on surveillance. If Luther touches her, he goes down.
"Visual on Delilah," I say quietly into the wrist mic. "She's in the office with Luther."
"Joining," Gabriel says immediately through the earpiece.
"I'll cover the street from the east side,” Anton confirms.
Gabriel appears at my shoulder a moment later, silent, taking up position beside me and watching my back so I can keep my eye on Delilah.
I look through the glass, and every instinct I have says go. Now. Get in there and get her out.
But I don't know what she set in motion. She had as much time to come up with a plan on her drive up as I did on mine.
All I know is she's in there, and I'm out here, and the thin glass between us is the most impossible distance I've ever stood across.
Just then, loud pipes from behind the house echo through the night air.
Anton’s voice comes through my earpiece. “Bike coming in from the back alley. One rider. Moving fast."
Gabriel tenses beside me.
"I'm moving to observe," Anton says.
"Copy," I breathe.
My eyes don't leave the office.
Suddenly, Luther stands tall again and rushes toward her, pinning her against the wall. I work hard to keep my rage under my skin when I’m ready to explode through that window and torture him, teach him what happens when he lays his hands on Delilah, then let the devil deal with him in hell.
My finger hovers over the trigger. I’m ready to kill him, already planning on what to do with his carcass, but Delilah’s movement is deliberate. She doesn’t hide behind his body. She sticks out her thigh, works to make sure her body is as much in my sight as Luther’s.
She doesn’t want me to shoot.
“You stupid bitch,” Luther wraps his hands around Delilah’s throat.
I can’t do what she wants.
But I have to.
She told me to wait.
He’s not squeezing her hard enough to stop her talking. “Fuck… you…”
She’s still breathing. She’s still able to bite.
Fear shoots up my spine. My limbs are electrified. My mind is laser-focused on my trigger. My barrel points to his lower back, but Delilah is just behind–
Anton’s voice comes through in my ear. "Rider entering through the basement entrance. He's inside."
Gabriel takes off around the corner like a bat out of hell. He and Anton will go inside after the rider.
I can’t take my eyes off Delilah and the son of a bitch I’m about to kill.
She thinks he can’t kill her. She thinks she’s safe because she’s his path to the dirty riches he craves, but I know how fast an enraged man can flip. How fast logic can drain from his body, replaced by animal instinct.
Her hands grip Luther's wrists. She’s white-knuckled trying to pry them off, stopping them from digging too deep —
The image hits me in a flash. A young Delilah. Someone should have protected her and didn't.
Well, I’m protecting her now.
I narrow my eye along the sight.
I'm going to kill Luther Vaughn.
But just before I squeeze, she chokes out words, loud enough for me to hear.
"You… do this…" Her words are thin. “And you’ll fuck it all up. For everybody.”
A warning to Luther?
No. Her eyes cut to the window for just a fraction of a second.
She meant that for me?
Luther bares his teeth. His grip tightens. He’s unhinged.
A bead of sweat drips down my forehead as I aim for his black heart…
Bang.
Luther drops, and it takes me a full second to understand.
The shot isn’t mine.
There, at the threshold of the office, is Marcus Cross.
Delilah's hands fly to her throat. She gasps, her eyes wide and wet and fixed on her father.
I know Marcus from a file two inches thick. I know what he sells and who he hurts and what it cost his daughter to survive growing up in his shadow. So I train my gun on him now. I need Delilah out of here.
Marcus crosses the room swiftly. He's panting from rushing here, from the adrenaline of just killing a man. And now he’s heading for my woman with anger in his stride.
His voice is thunder. “I’m putting you back where you belong…”
He’s moving toward her with his arm raised, pistol poised, ready to whip her on the side of the head.
She asked me to stand down for Luther. But her father?
He deserves to die. He didn’t protect his daughter.
He used her, manipulated her, and offered her to a man who would have treated her no better than the women he sells.
Marcus Cross stole a little girl’s childhood and replaced it with a twisted duty, stole innocence she’ll never get back.
He will never touch her again.
I fire.
Marcus goes down, and immediately, I'm through the window.
I land hard on the office floor, and in no time, I’m across the room and finally have the only thing in the world that matters back in my arms. Her body is stiff, every muscle coiled and taut.
I hold her tightly against me, trying not to hold her too hard. Finally, I pull back and put both hands on the sides of her face. “You’re safe now.”
The reality of the situation has finally dropped, and all the courage she once stood here with drops away, replaced by shock.
“Are you okay? Can you breathe okay?” I ask.
She nods, but tears stream down her cheeks. She can’t say a word. She's shaking when I pull her back in.
“I’m cold,” she murmurs against my chest.
“It’s the shock. Medics will be here soon.” I know Anton or Gabriel would have already called the police now with men down. “We need to lay you down.”
“No, it’s not that bad. Just… just hold me.”
I whip off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders, then gather her back between my arms, keeping her warm.
She isn’t shivering, thank God, but I’m worried as shit about possible neck injuries.
Delilah’s breathing slows slightly. Her head falls to my chest, and we both stare down at Marcus.
He’s groaning on the floor while Gabriel presses against the wound on his leg. Next to Marcus, Anton searches for a pulse in Luther’s neck, then his wrist, but it’s clear there’s nothing.
Delilah sniffles on my chest like someone trying to hold back emotion.
I press my lips to the top of her head and keep them there.
"I burned it," she says into my chest. “All of it. It’s all gone.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, but I can’t help my gaze dropping to her throat. I need to get her to a hospital. She’s the only thing I care about right now. There could be internal trauma. Airway swelling.
Her gaze moves past me again, to her father breathing heavily.
I decided to shoot in a split second, and I would do it again. He wasn’t touching her. A pistol to the side of the face could have damaged her for life, and she already had neck injuries.
I had to stop him, and at the time, there was only one way.
She moves toward him and stands above him, like a woman ready to claim a throne and spit on it at the same time.
She hates him. But he created her. It’s a paradox she may never solve.
"Delilah.” Her name dies on my tongue.
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to apologize.
She seems to understand me without all those words, just like she has so many times before. She threads her fingers through mine.
"Someone has to pay," she says. To me. To him. To a world that needs to hear it. "Rio, you just made sure this time, the right ones did."
I absorb the scene. Luther, dead on the floor. Her dad is now a murderer and can be taken into custody. She planned this.
We were made for each other.
I take her hand and kiss the back of it. “No, Princess. You did.”
She’s a goddamn force to be reckoned with, but I can’t help wonder exactly how she made this happen. And what if it hadn’t worked? Emotion claws at my throat.
"You could have gotten yourself killed," I choke out.
"I know," she swallows hard.
"Don't ever do that again."
The corner of her mouth lifts. "I can't promise that."
Our gazes drop back down to Marcus. His head has fallen back against the wooden floor as Gabriel keeps pressure on his thigh wound with his own t-shirt.
I can't help but wonder if this isn't really over. Maybe Luther lied. Maybe he told Marcus everything. Marcus tries to sit up.
“Lie down,” Gabriel barks. “That bullet inside you is still alive enough to cause more damage if you move.”
Marcus relents, his body letting go in defeat. But then, his hazy gaze meets mine, and for a moment I stop breathing. What if Luther lied? What if Marcus knows all about me, too?
His gaze flicks between me and his daughter, who’s still in my arms.
“Who the fuck are you?” He grunts.
Marcus Cross. Iron Covenant president. Lying on the floor of Luther Vaughn's office with a bullet in his thigh will be the end of it all.
"I’m nobody."