Chapter 16
Colt
Ikiss Denver’s knuckles, and her smile is small, but it’s there. Before we left San Francisco, we made a quick stop in the city, but now we’re almost home.
Danielle decided to stay behind, so I called Cain before we left and made sure two of his men could stay with her. She said she needed space from the city. It’s understandable, but I still wish she was close enough for me to keep an eye on her.
As the plane lands, Denver noticeably relaxes. I’m glad New York feels more like home to her. It was never going to be easy moving here, not when her entire life and memories with Axel and her parents are so far away.
“Ready?” I ask, and Denver nods, taking a breath as we step off the plane.
Taf is close behind me. “JJ is waiting with the car.”
It’s close to midnight, so the private airspace should be relatively empty, but it’s not. Two cars are waiting for us, and neither of them are JJ.
They’re police cars.
We reach the tarmac, and a man in a gray suit approaches. He’s a little older than I am, brown hair tinged with silver. “Denver Luxe?”
“What is this?” I ask.
He ignores me, remaining focused on Denver. “Are you Denver Luxe?”
“Yes,” she says quietly.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Vincent Capelli Jr.” His words become a blur as he turns her, placing her hands on the hood of the car as he reads her rights.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I shove him back, but someone pulls me away. I recognize Taf’s voice in my ear, telling me not to get arrested, too. “She didn’t kill anyone!”
The officer hauls Denver off the car, and she’s calmer than I am, even as the color drains from her cheeks.
“I’ll be right behind you, Del,” I say, and she nods as she’s placed in the back of the police car.
This cannot be fucking happening. As if we don’t have enough to deal with. A murder charge, her third, is not what we need.
“Let’s go,” Taf says. “The sooner we get to her, the better.”
We find JJ, who was mid-argument with another cop, meaning he couldn’t warn us about what was waiting. Fuckers. I sit in the passenger seat, heart beating quick as I call my lawyer and try to make sense of what just happened.
Why now? What sudden evidence has come up for Denver to get arrested? Vince died weeks ago. He’s dead and fucking buried. The case wasn’t closed, but we had people running circles around the detective heading the investigation.
What was her name? Quinn something.
“A call this late from Colt Harland is never good,” Reid, my lawyer, mumbles as he answers. “What’s Charlie done now?”
“Not Charlie,” I say. “Call me back when you’ve had a cold shower. I need you alert and ready to go.”
“Why?”
“Because my wife just got arrested.”
I hang up and dial the next number.
“Did I hear you right?” Taf asks, his head whipping from me to the road. “How are you married? Ranger didn’t agree to a divorce, did he?”
“They were never married. Long story.” I hold the phone to my ear.
Alistair answers fast. “Yep?”
“Denver was just arrested for Vince’s murder. I need you to call whoever we have on the force to get rid of whatever evidence they have,” I say.
He pauses. “Sure. I’ll get on it.”
The drive feels like a fever dream. There’s never any time to grieve, to absorb, to get over the constant upheaval of our fucking lives. It never stops, and I’m beyond exhausted but unwilling to lie down, especially if it means I could lose her.
Heads turn as I stride into the station. I recognize the cop on duty as one of ours. Melody Arnold. Not a rookie, but not far off. She has student debts and was an easy buy.
“Denver Luxe,” I say. “Where she is?”
Melody glances down the hall, then lowers her voice as she responds, “She’s being questioned.”
“How the fuck is that possible when her lawyer isn’t here?”
“It’s that new detective, Quinn Marshall.
She’s fixated on the Luxes since Ranger showed up and started throwing his power around.
” I go to move, but her hand darts out, her eyes wide.
“Mr. Harland, she is out for blood. You go in there guns blazing, she’ll find a reason to arrest you, too.
She’s tearing through other officers like a fucking hurricane.
Most have quit cos they’re so scared she’ll catch them taking cash. Be careful.”
“Mr. Harland.” The smooth voice has me moving away from the desk.
The woman across from me looks far too fucking smug.
Her pantsuit is the same dark blue as her eyes, thick lips twisted into a smirk as she folds her arms. Her hair is so blonde it’s almost white and is pulled back into a low ponytail, some curls framing her face, like she’s haphazardly pulled it back but managed to make it look stylish.
“I gather you’re here for Mrs. Luxe.”
“Mrs. Harland,” I correct her, stepping forward. I look down at her. She must be five foot ten, but that means I’ve still got over seven inches on her. “She’s my wife.”
“Congrats,” she says. “Reckon you’ll outlive the first husband?”
“I’ll be sure to try and not get carjacked.”
Her smirk deepens, highlighting dimples in her cheeks. “Right. A carjacking. Tragedy.”
“Not for me.” I give her a bitter smile. “Denver didn’t kill anybody.”
“We’ll see.” She waves her hand at a line of plastic chairs. “Get comfy. I hope you like filter coffee.”
As Quinn Marshall walks away, Taf comes to my side. “This is not fucking good.”
No. No, it’s not.
Reid arrives thirty minutes later, looking like he’s fresh off a magazine cover and not that I woke him up an hour ago in the middle of the night. He gives me a reassuring shoulder squeeze as he passes, and I know it won’t take long for him to walk out with Denver, but my stomach is in knots.
Alistair hasn’t called. He should have an update by now, but when I call him, he doesn’t pick up. Lewis shows up, eyes wide with worry.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Colt. I wasn’t home. What the fuck has happened?” he says. “Where is she?”
I explain what I know, which isn’t much.
He paces as we wait.
And wait.
Reid once got Taf out of an assault charge within the hour, and there was CCTV of him committing the fucking crime. It’s impressive the lies he weaves, the way he works the system to keep our names clean. That, combined with the cops on our payroll, leaves us almost untouchable.
But hours pass, and Denver isn’t released.
When Reid finally reappears, he’s alone.
I shake my head as I approach him. “They’re not keeping her?”
“They are. This new detective won’t let this go,” he says, running his hand down his face. “We need to talk alone.”
“I’m not leaving here without my fucking wife, Reid.”
“You don’t have a choice. They have her for forty-eight hours, and we have until then to make sure this evidence doesn’t stick. But we cannot talk here.”
Walking away from this building feels like I’m tearing my heart out of my chest. Even being on the sidewalk feels like I’m abandoning her.
“I’m sorry, Taf, but we need to be alone,” Reid says once we’re on the street.
Taf frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I trust Taf.”
Reid shakes his head. “Colt, it’s you, and only you.”
What the fuck is going on? I trust Taf with my life. Reid knows that, so why would … he can’t think the rat is someone in my family? That isn’t possible.
We walk a few blocks, and Reid takes out a cigarette. “Toss your phone.” He throws his into a trash can we pass, and I do the same. I have a number of burners, everything important backed up on them. The farther we walk, the more my skin crawls with urgency to know why Reid is taking these steps.
We stop at the end of an alley. The street’s busy with it being a weekend, but no one cares about our conversation. In a bustling city, everyone is wrapped up in their own lives.
“Was Denver sleeping with Vince Capelli?” he asks.
“No, she wasn’t.”
He removes the cigarette from his mouth. “I’m not gonna judge you for marrying her if she cheated, Colt.”
“She wasn’t sleeping with him,” I say through gritted teeth. “Why?”
“There’s footage of Denver arriving at Vince’s house the night he supposedly died.”
My skin chills, and it has nothing to do with the falling snow. I lean against the alley wall, the brick cold through my jacket, and I try to breathe. Alistair said he watched Denver slit Vince’s throat. If the police have seen that, too …
“How much footage is there?”
He lets out a breath, smoke curling around his lips. “Enough for them to arrest her.”
“But not charge her?”
“No.”
So, they see Denver going to Vince’s home, but seemingly nothing from inside. For now.
“Can you get her out?”
He exhales deeply. “I’ll try.”
“Reid.” I step toward him. “Can you?”
“At the very least, I can have her out after these forty-eight hours have passed. We need to make sure that nothing else comes out, Colt. Is there something else that could tie her to this?”
Dante could. He was there, too, but even if he didn’t like Denver, he’d never rat her out to the cops. That isn’t how we work. And Lewis would rather take the hit for her than ever turn against her.
“Yes. There’s other footage.”
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He tosses the cigarette into the snow. “We need to know who sent it.”
An ache weighs heavily in my heart, a twisting sense of dread in my gut that I might never shake. “I already do.”
We return to Taf, JJ, and Lewis. Taf still looks wounded as we head back to the car, and Lewis says he’ll meet us at the house.
I don’t want to accept this. I don’t want what I think to be true. I know he would do this to her, but I never thought he’d do it to me.
The house is quiet when we get home. Taf and JJ follow me inside, and Lucas stands from the sofa when he sees us. Alistair is by the television.
“What’s happened? Why isn’t Denver with you?” Lucas asks. “Reid couldn’t get her out?”
I drop my bag by the door, my eyes fixed on Alistair. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”
Silence and tension pour into the room, a thick, heavy, almost tangible thing.
Alistair frowns. “Do what?”
“Tell me you didn’t send that footage to the cops. Tell me you didn’t just lock Denver away for life because you don’t fucking like her.” I approach with slow steps, and my friend watches. “Tell me you didn’t do this.”
Alistair’s jaw is tight. “I didn’t.”
“You told me you watched the footage.”
“I did.”
“And what did you fucking do with it?”
The gulf between my best friend and I has become so vast that I feel like I can’t reach him anymore. The break hasn’t even been slow—it’s snapped, obliterated.
It’s beyond saving if he’s done this.
“Tell me the truth.”
“You want the truth, Colt?” Alistair challenges. He steps close to me and Taf inches forward, both his and JJ’s eyes moving between us. “I considered it. I wanted to do it.”
I shove him. “Why? What is your fucking problem with her?”
“She’s bad for you, Colt! She’s fucking poison!” he shouts. “How do you know you won’t end up with a bullet between your eyes just like Wyatt? Or two in your back like Ethan? Or maybe she’ll cut your throat like she did to Vince.”
“Denver killed Vince?” JJ asks.
My heart is hammering. We needed to keep that under wraps; the fewer people who know, the better. I grit out my next sentence. “Yes. He’s the one who planted the bombs that killed Finn and Wilder. Denver fixed a problem.”
“Almost fucked him first, though.” The words have barely left Alistair’s mouth when I hit him.
I expect him to go down, but he comes at me. His knuckles meet my jaw, and I seize his throat, throwing him against the wall. Picture frames shudder and smash as they meet the ground, memories scattering at our feet. I hit him. Again. And again.
Strong hands grip my shoulders and yank me back.
Taf places himself between Alistair and me. “Twenty fucking years we’ve been friends, and we’ve never once thrown a punch. And this is what does it?” He looks between us, cheeks flushed with anger.
“Fuck this. I’m done.” Alistair wipes his nose, blood smearing across his face. “You’ve chosen her. Good fucking luck.”
He strides across the room.
“Alistair, you’re not serious!” JJ calls out, but the door opens and slams shut without a response.