Chapter 15
Colt
Two funerals in two days.
Two kids lost in a senseless war.
All loss is pointless, but this is cruel.
Denver is just within my sight, sitting on the couch, staring at the same spot on the floor that she’s been looking at for the last twenty minutes.
She stood at Ranger’s side at the funeral, shaking hands and accepting condolences, all with a sympathetic and grateful smile.
Soon after, she came to me and whispered that she couldn’t do it at the wake, so I’m standing in her place.
We’re in Ranger’s home, the place where he and Denver shared a bed, where they were close to happily married for almost a year.
It’s weird, to say the least, seeing a home with her photograph on the mantel, a wedding photo of her and Ranger, and one of Denver on a beach, her smile wide, her large sunhat shielding her eyes.
There are others, too—ones of her and Wesson, some of her and Axel, and part of me wonders if they were always here, or if Ranger put them out as a reminder to me.
A silly, paranoid thought, but it’s hard not to assume manipulation when it comes to Ranger Luxe.
As we stand at the door and greet people, he’s the same Ranger as always. Stoic, gruff, cold. It’s as if he’s at any other funeral, but maybe that’s how he copes.
“Hi,” Danielle says, her voice small as she enters, casting a quick glance in Ranger’s direction before I pull her into a hug. She flew here with us to get out of the city, but I didn’t expect her to come to the funeral.
“You didn’t have to come,” I say quietly.
It’s been a week from hell for all of us. Grief stacked upon grief, agony upon agony. I’ve never seen Ronan’s mom cry like she has, as she buried her youngest in a closed casket.
“I wanted to be here for Denver,” Danielle whispers, her voice breaking. “Where is she?”
I nod toward her, where she sits with Lewis. He’s politely ushering away anyone who wants her attention, but I can tell his patience is wearing thin.
Danielle looks at Ranger. He watches her with the same indifference he’s given everyone. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She’s his sister. His half-sister, but still his family. As far as I know, he’s never met Ronan, so this may be the first blood family he’s come across in a long time.
“I’m sorry for yours,” he says, with the kind of tone I’ve only ever heard him use for Denver.
“Thank you.” Danielle goes to Denver, sitting beside her on the couch, and the two women embrace.
When I look back at Ranger, he’s watching them.
“What is she like?”
The question surprises me, and at first, I’m unsure how to answer. “Danielle?” I ask, and he nods. “She’s … tough. Not easily broken, but a lot has happened.” I look back over at her and Denver. They’re crying as they talk.
“Did she meet Axel?”
“I don’t think so.”
I look away from Denver’s tears, resisting the urge to go to her, scoop her into my arms, and take her away from all this.
“That’s a shame,” Ranger says quietly. As quickly as the guard dropped, it’s back up, and he refocuses on greeting people.
He doesn’t speak again.
The day moves on. Mournful music plays. Conversation is murmured. I’ve been to too many funerals in my life, and I’ll be glad to make this my last, but I doubt it will be.
Stacking a plate with food, I sit beside Denver and place the dish on her lap. “Eat, Del.”
“I’m not hungry,” she whispers.
“I know you’re not, but you still need to eat something. Just a few bites. Please.”
She’s quiet but nods, picking up a small sandwich and nibbling the edges.
I brush her hair back, watching Ranger across the living room.
He’s by the window talking to Danielle, his spine rigid, jaw tense, but he appears to be listening.
He’s being watched by my men, and if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t allow him anywhere near her.
He’s been well behaved this week. He and Denver have shared a few phone calls about funeral arrangements, and she said he’s stuck to facts and not mentioned anything other than Axel. But I don’t trust him, and I never will.
I put my arm around Denver, and she leans into me, still slowly chewing the sandwich. “I’m so tired.”
“We can go home,” I say. “Back to the hotel or New York.”
“Maybe,” she whispers. “Samuel is here.” She stands as Samuel approaches, and he embraces her. “You didn’t have to come.”
He pulls back. “It’s the least I could do. How are you?”
She shakes her head, fresh tears filling her eyes. “Not good, but we’ll get through it.”
“Any resources you need, tell me,” he says, searching her face.
“Just ask, and it’s done.” He releases her to shake my hand.
“Colt.” His gaze lands on Ranger and Danielle, and I note the small stiffening of his shoulders.
“I should pass on my condolences.” Denver nods, and he leaves us.
I watch Danielle’s expression as she notices Samuel—far from the anger I saw the other night. In fact, she avoids his eye.
Denver and I sit again just as the door to the house bangs open.
Quickened heels on the foyer floor have us all looking over.
A woman appears, dark shades on her face, her long, black hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
She’s dressed entirely in black, a heavy, designer coat cinched at the waist, and looks around, her lips set into a tight line as her head whips back and forth.
“Holy shit,” Denver whispers, sitting up, her eyes wide.
The woman spots Ranger and adjusts her handbag, striding over to him. He spots her and scowls.
She slaps him clean across the face.
“You useless fuck! You promised me!”
Ranger takes the hit with a small turn of his head, then levels the woman with an icy glare.
She hits him again.
And again.
“Who is that?” I ask Denver.
Danielle shoves the woman back. “What the fuck is wrong with you? He just buried his son!”
“Our son!” the woman screams.
“Angelina Luxe,” Denver whispers, her eyes saucer wide as she looks at me. “That’s Ranger’s first wife.”
“You’re incredibly brave, coming back to this house,” Ranger says, his voice low as he considers his ex-wife with a level beyond disdain.
People left soon after Angelina’s arrival. Denver and I are still sitting on the couch, and she remains close to me, her grip on my hand tightening with every second.
Everyone thought Angelina Luxe was dead.
She left in the middle of the night with her bodyguard who was also her lover, and no one saw her again.
It seemed fairly obvious that Ranger followed them, killed them, and didn’t bother to come up with a cover story because he’d never see jail time for it, anyway.
But she’s here, in the flesh, looking beyond rageful.
She paces the room frantically, and the man who came with her, Dawson, never lets her out of his sight. He’s tall, with curly blond hair, and his face is set into stone when he answers Ranger. “You didn’t exactly give us a choice. You didn’t even tell us Axel had died.”
“I’m not in the habit of keeping in touch with the man who fucked my wife and took her in the middle of the night,” Ranger bites back.
Angelina skids to a halt. “Took me? I escaped this fucking hellhole.” She looks at Denver. “I can’t believe you married Nico’s daughter.”
Denver tilts her head. “I have a name.” It’s the most Denver-like thing she’s said in days, and I bask in the strength she’s regaining, regardless of the reason why.
“Yes, you do,” Angelina says, her tone sickly sweet. “Mrs. Ranger Luxe. Except she’s not, is she, Ranger?”
Denver looks at him. “What does she mean?”
Ranger says nothing, and Angelina steps forward. “We’re still legally married.”
Holy fucking shit.
Denver sits up. “But … you were gone for years before I even met Ranger. Doesn’t a marriage just … dissolve?”
“If you file a missing person’s report,” Angelina says. “But why would Ranger do that when he knew exactly where I was?”
“And where have you been?” Danielle asks. She isn’t by Ranger’s side, but she isn’t far, as if defending him earlier has pulled forth some sibling need to protect him. It doesn’t sit right with me, but I say nothing.
Angelina lifts her chin. “Protecting myself from being married to a monster.”
“And leaving your son behind,” Danielle bites back.
Angelina lifts her chin. “You have no idea what it was like being married to him. You have no clue what my life was.”
Denver shakes her head and looks at me. “Can we go home?”
I nod, returning my weapon to its holster. She takes my hand, and we walk by Angelina. Danielle follows us.
“Denver,” Ranger calls out, and she stops. Her grip on my hand doesn’t change when he looks at her the way he does—with desperation. “Don’t go.”
Angelina looks shell-shocked, as if she’s seeing a side of Ranger she thought could never exist. I know the feeling.
Ranger’s reputation is one of callousness, brutality, a ruthless rise to power in a world filled with people who wanted to take him down.
He’s survived everything, but all that falls to pieces when it comes to Denver.
It’s almost admirable how he’s willing to give it all up for her, how he adores her beyond reason. I understand it. I live it.
But I also know she deserves more than he could ever give her.
“There’s nothing left for me here,” Denver says. “There hasn’t been for a long time.”