3. Warner
WARNER
FITZPLEASURE – ALT-J
The laptop screen blurs in front of me, forming drunken, wriggling lines that distort the case files I’ve spent all night pouring over. Perhaps searching for a breakthrough at four o’clock in the morning is a foolish quest after all.
But foolish or not, it’s a lot more appealing than crawling back into that damned bed and lying there, imagining what my best friend is going through while I’m warm and comfortable.
When we got Ember back, I’d thought I’d felt this awful, gut-wrenching anxiety for the last time. I hadn’t thought my terror for Ember could be matched until we got that phone call and heard Tom’s agony for ourselves.
Before, the months and years without any sign of Ember allowed fear to take root in my bones. It laid down spidery vines then expanded until its poison ivy was wrapped around every last nerve cell. But I knew that no matter what happened, my girl is strong.
Hell, Ember’s far stronger than any of us. She always has been, something I realised when she watched her mother being lowered into the ground and didn’t even flinch while her older brother broke down. Ember refused to let him grieve alone.
I can only hope that Tom possesses a shred of her grit right now and that he’ll hold onto it until I can bring him back to her. I won’t watch Ember lose another family member. Not after all we’ve endured to get to this point. She deserves better than that.
Refocusing on the case files, I scour back over Luis’s profile. We’ve garnered all the information we can from international law enforcement, allowing us to build a portrait of the prolific trafficker.
He’s a middleman.
A cog in a bigger machine.
These people are a dime a dozen in every other country across the globe. No matter where you turn, you’ll find power-hungry fools ready to sacrifice their morals to make a profit. I’ve arrested a thousand Luis’s in my time at Sabre.
How did he get the jump on us?
I fitted Tom’s place with security equipment myself, including a biometric system and a panic alarm directly keyed into Sabre’s emergency line. Luis got past it all, manually disabling the power supply and its backup then cracking his apartment open like an egg.
The question is how.
He blew past our contingencies, snatched Tom then disappeared without being seen on a single CCTV feed. No system is truly unbreakable, but Tom’s was damn near close. Not to mention London is one of the most surveilled cities on the planet.
Either Luis has someone incredibly skilled working for him now, or worse still, he had help from someone who knows our tech. Maybe even someone who has perfected the art of disappearing.
“Fuck.” I rub my sore temples.
We’re running out of time.
When Luis’s offer arrived, I knew from the spark in Ember’s eyes that she had every intention to blow us off to march in there and save her brother. It killed me to demand her patience. I know she’s in pain.
Slamming my laptop shut, I massage my eyes with the heels of my palms. A couple hours of sleep have done little to alleviate my exhaustion. At least I’ve managed to rest my screaming residual limb for a bit.
“NOOOOO!”
At the sound of a wail penetrating the silent penthouse, I startle so hard that I almost fall from my desk chair. My hand seizes the grey medical crutch that I use to navigate without my limb as I manoeuvre myself up.
Hyland’s bedroom door smashes open at the same time that I emerge. He squints in the low-lit hallway, chest bare and sweat shorts hanging low on his waist. We both look at Ember’s door.
“No! Tom!”
“Shit,” he curses roughly. “Another nightmare.”
“I’ve got this. Go back to bed.”
“Warner—”
“I’ve got it.” I stalk past him. “Go.”
Walking is awkward as fuck without my prosthetic, especially with the cuff of my sweatpants rolled up to mid-thigh on my right side. With great effort, I half-hop, half-shuffle to Ember’s door then push inside.
“Em? I’m coming in.”
The undrawn curtains allow lurid city light to spill into Ember’s sparse bedroom, revealing her thrashing state snarled up in the bedsheets. My heart throbs hard behind my chest bone.
My little astronaut.
I’ve barely looked at her of late, let alone said a single word. Every time I think about taking her into my arms, I see her brother. I see the cost of my failure if I can’t find him. And I see what it’ll do to the girl I’ve secretly loved for two decades.
“Please, Tom,” she screeches. “No. Stop!”
Self-loathing rattles through my shattering heart. This is so stupid. She needs me, not my selfish doubts. Stuffing them down, I hop over to the bed then discard my crutch so I can drop onto the edge.
“Ember?”
She twists in her sweaty sheets, every inch of her contorted face lit by distant skyscrapers. Ember’s had punishing night terrors like this every time she’s slept this week. Hyland and Axel keep me updated.
“Em,” I whisper softly. “Wake up, love.”
When she doesn’t respond to my voice, I hesitantly rest a palm on her bare shoulder. She’s sleeping in a thin tank top, leaving clammy, scar-striped skin on full display.
“Em, baby. I’m here. Open your eyes.”
My fingertips begin to circle, caressing her shoulder, neck and whip-marked upper back. The old scars are rigid and gnarly underneath my fingers, my teeth locking tight to hold back my emotions.
Goddammit.
Feeling the physical remnants of all she suffered damn near breaks my self-control. The glimpses I’ve had of her body don’t do justice to the feeling of pain immortalised in her scarred skin.
I could kill Gael with my pinkie finger right now.
We’re dangerously close to losing her. Permanently. No matter what she says, I don’t know if she would survive the horrors of the cartel again.
Each stroke seems to pierce her terror, so I continue, mentally boxing up my caveman urges. Eventually, her screams fade to gut-punching, little whimpers. Shuffling closer across the mattress, I prop myself against the headboard then ease her head onto my lap.
Her flame-red hair is hanging loose and soaked with sweat, but I couldn’t care less as I weave my fingers through the lengthy strands. Sometimes, I braided her hair for her as a kid. She used to hate her mother brushing the snarled knots.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur. “You’re okay.”
Even holding her like this feels like I’m tempting fate. She’s featured in my nightly dreams ever since she laid herself out in the boxing ring like a Christmas present and thoroughly fucked herself just for me.
Chest tightening at the memory, my fingers still in her hair. I need to get a grip. She’s shivering and quietly whimpering in my arms right now while I’m fantasising about how her pretty pink pussy greedily devoured her slick fingers, over and over again.
Yep, I’m headed straight for hell.
This is why I’ve stayed away.
Still stroking her hair, I whisper under my breath until her trembles subside, and the whimpers cease. At some point, my eyes fall shut too, lulling me into a calm bubble that holding her close provides.
At the feel of a soft hand sneaking beneath my t-shirt to rest flat against my stomach, my eyes fling open. Ember hasn’t moved from my lap, but her fingers are now splayed over my abdominals and lightly stroking.
My breath hitches.
What is she…
Her hand dances over each defined plane, fingertip swirling in the dark hair that dips into my sweatpants. With each movement, the iron-clad grip around my lungs tightens beyond the point of pain.
Apparently, my body is a traitor because every nerve is firing adrenaline deeper into my limbs. Even with only one hand on me, I can feel her all over. Her touch. Her scent. Her beckoning warmth. Everything I love and want, even if it can never be mine.
“Em,” I manage to rasp out.
She gives a low, sleepy whine.
“Are you awake?”
“Mmm. No.”
Laughing quietly, I cease stroking her hair. “Don’t play games.”
“Why are you in my bed?” she whispers.
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Are you okay?”
“No. Not really.”
Her hand doesn’t stop, circling and teasing, undoubtedly feeling how her touch makes me tense. In the low light and peaceful silence, her proximity feels natural. Permissible. No one is here to witness my betrayal of Tom’s friendship.
“I’ve missed you,” she admits in a thick voice.
“I’m sorry, Em.”
“Why are you avoiding me?”
“I have a job to do.”
“But you can’t even look at me?”
Guilt strangles my windpipe, leaving me no choice but to swallow hard. “You should go back to sleep. I have to get back to work.”
“No,” Ember grouses. “Please don’t go.”
“I need to check in with Axel.”
Clearing the sleep from her voice, she peers up at me. “You need to rest too.”
Hah. Rest. Like I’d ever be able to do that while Tom is still out there, lost and alone.
I attempt to ease her back onto the mattress so I can slide free now that she’s calmed down, but she resists. I should’ve realised doing that would only poke the bear.
Ember sits up, rolls over then flings a temptingly bare leg over my waist. Within a second, she’s crawled on top of my lap, a thigh splayed on either side of my body. Her long, tangled hair flips over her shoulder as she assumes a position of control, pinning me with her body weight.
“Em—”
“Problem?” Her shadowed face is lit by dim light.
“I shouldn’t be in here.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not,” I reason calmly.
She stares at me through half-lids. “Then why did you come?”
“Because… you were crying out in your sleep. You needed me.”
“Right.” Her lips round to form the sound. “What if I still need you?”
“What you need is to go back to sleep.”
“You first,” she sasses back.
This is my fault. The moment I gave rise to those illegal thoughts streaming through my mind while she fought me, I opened the floodgates. I gave permission to release the intense pressure practically exploding between us.