Chapter 34 #2
My attention shifts to Kitrick as he enters the room.
He’s moving stiffly, likely still in agony after what Spider did to him.
Despite how we met, despite what we went through, it’s still a relief to see him, even if he is Quinn’s brother.
My jaw was on the floor when Colt told me that, but it explains his dedication to his job, at least. It’s clearly a family trait.
“Cop’s here, everybody cease anything illegal,” Taf says, and Sandy cackles.
I smile. “Ignore him. Are you feeling any better?”
Kitrick rolls his shoulder. “Not really. Are you?”
I shrug. “Just happy to be home. Have you heard from the bureau?”
Charlie, Sandy, and Taf all pretend to gag, and Colt grins from beside me. Even Alistair smiles.
Kitrick glares at them. “Yes. They’ve let my department know the truth about my cover. I’ve spoken to Quinn, too.”
More exaggerated gagging. I laugh and throw a pillow at Sandy. “Leave him alone; he can’t help who he’s related to.”
“He can help who he is, though!” Taf says. “I bet he rehearses the Miranda rights in the shower.”
Sandy collapses back into the cushions laughing. I shake my head at them.
“I’m guessing Quinn wants to speak to me?” I ask.
“I’ve convinced her to lay off for a few days,” he says.
A small weight is lifted. It’s evidence of how fucked up my life is that a murder charge is one of the smaller problems I’ve had recently, but at least I’ve got a few days to figure out how the hell to deal with that.
“Thank you,” I say.
Kitrick nods. “Quinn is on her way to pick me up. She should be here any—”
Everyone bolts from the room as if he’s announced a toxic gas is about to be released. Even Alistair makes an excuse and is gone before Kitrick can finish his sentence.
I stand, going to Kitrick. I doubt this will be the last time I see him, but it might be my final chance to really thank him for all he did. It’s unlikely he can be entirely truthful about his involvement in the massacre at Spider’s home, even though he saved me. Saved all of us.
“I’m sorry. Two years of work … and it’s over.”
His expression becomes almost tortured. “I did all I could in the time I could. And if I hadn’t have gotten you out, I might have died in that house, too.”
I nod. “I wish I could hug you.”
He gives me a small smile. “Can’t be seen fraternizing with criminals, anyway.”
I hated him for so long. Opening my bedroom door every morning and waiting for his approval felt like another cage I’d been shoved into. If only I’d known how he was protecting me, I could have been grateful earlier.
I take his hands in mine, push myself onto my tiptoes, and kiss his cheek.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For everything.”
When I drop back down to my height, his cheeks are flushed and he clears his throat. “You’re welcome, Denver.”
When I step back, Colt extends his hand. Kitrick looks less than enthusiastic but takes it.
“If you’re ever sick of crappy pay—”
I tut and swat his arm. “Colt.”
He gives me a cheeky grin. “What? I’m networking. And I doubt Kitrick expects any less.” He shakes Kitrick’s hand. “Thank you for looking after her. I owe you.”
“A favor from Ghost. Consider that never being cashed in,” Kitrick says.
After he leaves, both Colt and I waving at a less-than-amused Quinn as she waits in her car, we head upstairs.
It’s mid-afternoon, but we get into bed, and Wesson stretches out between us, his nose firmly nestled in my neck. I run my hand down his fur, weaving my fingers through it.
“So,” I say. “King of torture.”
Colt rolls onto his back and sighs. “We’re talking about this?”
“We are.”
He tucks his hand behind his head and stares at the ceiling but doesn’t speak. I can feel the waves of pain coming from him, a steady thrum of regret.
“Colt,” I say, and he looks at me. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”
His nod is slow. “Thirty-six.” The number has me holding my breath, but I don’t look away. “Twenty died quickly. The others …” He lowers his gaze. “It was them or you. I chose you.”
I swallow. “Who?”
“People who had in some way taken cash from Spider or other sources they wouldn’t give up.
I always had a reason. And I always made it hurt.
” He closes his eyes. “I’m not proud of it, but I’d have killed a hundred more people if it meant getting you back.
I can live a life of regret if I’m living that life with you. ”
He keeps his eyes closed, as if shielding himself from my reaction, as if he could tell me anything that would make me love him less.
“I’m not a killer,” I say, and now he looks at me, a sapphire blue I’ve looked into a hundred times.
“Even after Wyatt, I knew I wasn’t built to take a life.
Remember what you said to me in that elevator last year?
It sits with you.” I run my hand across Wesson’s head.
“But I know without a doubt that if you had been taken from me, I’d have burned through every person who tried to keep us apart.
If taking a life stains your soul, mine would be beyond recognition by the time I got you back.
” He rests his hand on top of mine and squeezes my fingers gently.
“So please don’t live a life of regret with me.
You did what you had to, and you found me.
You saved me. And I’ll love you forever, tainted soul and all. ”
At some point in the night, Wesson abandoned us—no doubt in favor of Lewis’s room. Colt wrapped his arms around me, and he fell asleep, but I didn’t rest for long. After carefully climbing out of bed, I sat in the window seat, hugging my knees to my chest and watching the world beyond the window.
There’s no snow. No people. A midnight city, a place we’ll soon leave behind.
But the person who dreamed of leaving isn’t who I am anymore.
I wish I could say I’m strong enough to not let these last few months break me. I wish I’d remained standing and not begged on my knees for freedom. I wish I’d fought harder, run faster, done more than wait.
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away.
I thought coming home would fix what Eli broke, but I’m haunted by a question, one I’m too afraid to speak, even if Colt offered me comfort after hearing it.
Who am I now?
I’ve been so many people. Deedee, Deluxe, Little Bird, Mrs. Ledger, Del, Robin.
But they were masks, weren’t they? The daughter, the celebrity, the wife, the mom, the partner, the victim.
Have I ever just been Denver?
Who is this version of me?
Who do I become after freeing her?
Because I really am free now. I’m no longer expected to fit into a skin that never felt quite right, or a name that didn’t roll off my tongue. I guess now I’m just Denver.
Is she strong enough to survive these next few weeks?
My phone lights up with a call. Colt gave it back to me earlier, and I ignored the endless messages, too afraid to face them.
I answer.
Quinn sighs. “I was hoping you’d be asleep.”
“Why? Too afraid to tell me you missed me?”
She doesn’t laugh, but then, I didn’t expect her to. “You’re no longer a person of interest in the murder of Vincent Capelli Jr.”
I close my eyes and let the relief wash over me. “Do you have any other leads?”
“My brother said that Eli Eddards did it,” she says, and my eyes snap open. “Said Eli confessed, even bragged about it, which is why he’s on the run. And Kitrick said he’s willing to testify to that, so … you’re off the hook, Deluxe. Again.”
I hug myself and watch Colt sleeping. “I hope you catch Eli.”
“Do you?”
I sigh deeply and rest my head against the wall, still staring at Colt. “I’ve given up trying to convince you people that evil isn’t as black and white as you want it to be.”
“Does that make you gray, Deluxe?” Quinn asks, but there’s surprisingly less bite to her tone than I expect.
My smile is small. “Morally gray sounds cooler.”
“I’m sure it does. Stay off my radar, Mrs. Harland.”
She hangs up, and I place the phone down. I approach the bed, where Colt is on his back, sleeping soundly until I pull back the covers and straddle him. He takes in a deep breath and looks up at me.
“You’re up—”
I kiss him, and he rests his hands on my hips, gripping them gently. His kiss is slow, unsure, testing waters he doesn’t have to test. I pull off the shirt I’m wearing and toss it aside.
“Are you sure?” he whispers against my lips.
I nod quickly. “Just … keep talking to me, okay? Keep reminding me it’s you.” His grip on me tightens, but I can’t handle his sympathy, not now. “Talk to me, Colt.” I kiss him again. “Just keep talking to me.”