Chapter 29
Jericho
I knew she had something planned the second she pushed away from me.
It was in her eyes.
It might've been years since I saw her face, but I committed every damn nuance to memory. I knew when she was going to kiss me. I knew when she would look at my hands that she was thinking about them on her body.
I knew by the glint in her eyes that she wanted to do something that could get her in trouble.
Most all the looks I knew from back then had something to do with us spending time together. I knew the regret that showed through now that she was planning something she knew I wouldn't approve of.
She doesn't trust that I can keep her safe, and I know a lot of that has to do with the fact that I've stayed gone for all these years while she suffered at the hands ofDamien Gaines. She might never admit it out loud, but there's a part of her that hates me for the sacrifices she had to make for our son where her husband is concerned, and I don't have to scratch my own surface too deep to feel the same about myself either.
We have so much shit to work through, but I won't get the chance if she gets eaten by a fucking hungry bear or abducted by some asshole who thinks she's easy prey.
Knowing she was going to pull some stupid shit and going up and finding the room empty after less than half an hour are two very different things. It proves she doesn't trust us, and I have to wonder if that's more about the systematic abuse she has suffered at Damien's hands or if the time and distance between the two of us are insurmountable.
I fire off a text before leaving the bedroom, and Hemlock meets me at the bottom of the stairs. He doesn't seem surprised that she took off either.
"She couldn't have gotten far," he says. I know he's trying to be helpful, but he'd be just as fucked in the head right now if Zara took off in the dark, down the side of a fucking mountain.
"If someone else hasn't gotten to her," I mutter as we head to the front door.
We both pause, looking down at the footsteps in the snow that lead all the way down the long driveway and turn left at the end.
We climb into one of the SUVs.
"She wouldn't make a very good spy," Hemlock says, and there's a hint of laughter in his voice.
"What if I hadn't gone upstairs so soon?"
"How long have you gone without checking on her since she got here?" he counters, proving a point he didn't need to make.
She slept most of the day, but I poked my head into that room a dozen times before waking her up not too long ago. My skin itches when I'm not near her and checking on her is the only thing that makes it go away for a short period of time.
Hemlock drives, creeping slowly down the driveway.
"We have that heat sensor, but I don't think we're going to need it," he says, pointing to her trail of footsteps.
We follow the trail, seeing more than once where she dipped off the road, either to hide from passing vehicles or because she lost her footing. The latter scares the shit out of me, but three times we see the footsteps climb back up to the road.
"There," he says, pointing to where the footsteps drop off and don't pick back up.
I climb out of the SUV, my heart racing with the possibility that she tumbled down into the darkness.
"Aspen, enough is enough," I say, and the only response I get is silence, making my heart pound against my rib cage.
Hemlock walks up beside me, holding the heat sensor machine.
Right there, not twenty feet from where we stand, is a ball of heat.
"Peach, I know exactly where you are. Let's go."
The ball of heat moves on the machine, and I look up just in time to see her form stand.
"What the hell are you thinking?" I ask, relief in my tone that she's okay.
Instead of relief or irritation on her face, she seems enraged. "Are you fucking tracking me? Are you just as sick and twisted as Damien?"
"I'll be in the car, while you two sort this shit out," Hemlock says.
"Answer me!" she growls as she walks closer, some of the fire leaving her movements when she slips and nearly falls.
I point down the road. "You literally left a fucking trail behind you," I growl. "Fucking socks on your hands, Peach? Are you trying to lose your fingers?"
She looks down at her soaked hands. They'd be better off completely exposed than wrapped in damn fabric.
"I couldn't find fucking gloves!" she screams, as if proper clothes in this weather is the only damn concern.
"Did you happen to look in the fucking pockets of the coat you stole?"
She narrows her eyes, but she's too proud to dip her hands inside and find the gloves right where they're meant to be.
"Are you going to stand out here and freeze or are you going to get in the car?"
She doesn't answer and she doesn't move, choosing to look down in the direction that she was traveling.
"You're going to get him killed," she says, and I can read the emotion in her tone.
I know she's barely holding on right now. I can't imagine what it's like to grow a person inside of you, protecting and nurturing them, only for them to face the harsh world and a man like Damien with little to no control over any of it. As much as I'm scared for Eli, I know she has to be ten times as terrified.
"We're wasting time," I continue. "And we've already wasted enough time with your lie about Virginia."
She doesn't seem very shocked that we managed to figure out Damien wasn't talking about the house we questioned her about. At first, we did think that's what he was referencing, but further research revealed that the house was sold for the land and torn down four years ago.
"We need to know where he's holding Eli, and you're wasting fucking time just standing there."
I know I shouldn't use her against herself, but Eli is my number one priority. I can handle her being mad at me, even hating me for the rest of her life, but she'll do it with Eli by her side. I have no other fucking recourse. This can't go any other way. I won't let that happen, and neither will the two teams of men at my back.
She makes sure not to touch me as she treks across the snow and ice toward the SUV. As much as I want to comfort her and make every promise that comes to mind, we just don't have the time. We were gearing up to leave when I checked and found her gone. This has set us back at least an hour, and every minute counts.
The drive back to the house is spent in silence, but I can tell both Aspen and Hemlock have a lot to say, they're just not willing to say it in front of each other.
Aspen is quick to climb out of the SUV and go right back into the house, and I'm right on her heels all the way up the stairs.
"We're gone in fifteen," Hemlock yells up at me just as I crest the top of the stairs.
I wave down at him, letting him know I heard him, but I follow Aspen into the room.
I grab a go-bag out of the closet and drop it near the bedroom door, ready to tell her to stay put and I'll let her know when we know something but looking back at her changes everything.
She was upset earlier. She had a damn panic attack for fuck's sake, but right now, she looks completely lost and broken.
She shakes her head when I inch toward her. I know it's a warning not to touch her because whatever thread she has managed to hold together this far will break.
But I can't not wrap her in my arms.
"This is all my fault," she sobs into my chest. "I should've done everything differently."
"Damien made it impossible to do anything other than the way he wanted things done, Peach. There's nothing you could've changed."
If anything, this is my fault for grabbing her out of that alleyway. At the time, I thought it was a good idea, but I should've spent more time thinking of all the scenarios instead of acting so rashly.
"You can't leave me here to just wonder about what's going on," she whispers. "I'll lose my mind."
I pull back, holding her at arm's length, and spend the next few breaths staring her in the eyes. She won't stay here, and it's not that she wants to defy me. She can't not do something that she thinks might help Eli. She doesn't have it in her, and I don't know that many mothers exist who could.
"You need to change. Wet clothes aren't good," I say and drop my hands from her shoulders.
She doesn't hesitate to start stripping right there in front of me. She isn't concerned about modesty or privacy. I gather another set of clothes that Zara sent up and pass them to her once she's mostly naked.
I don't miss how supple her breasts are or how soft I know her skin to be, and my cock, the one-track-minded bastard, doesn't hesitate to swell in my jeans. But now isn't the time for any of that shit, and I shut the idea of it down almost as quickly as it rises.
Once she's dressed again, we head out, and I hate that her clothes are pieced together and her footwear isn't exactly appropriate, but she doesn't seem to mind.
Hemlock doesn't say a word when I open the back door of the SUV and wait for her to climb inside before getting into the passenger seat.
"We need to talk about the summer house, Mrs. Gaines," Hemlock says as he begins to drive away from the cabin.
"Please call me Aspen," she instructs. "The summer house is in Connecticut, near Bridgeport."