6. Denver
Chapter 6
Denver
“ S ay the word, Denver. Say the word, and it’s done.”
I inhale sharply and open my eyes. A sheen of sweat coats my brow and chest, my t-shirt clinging to me like a second skin, my mouth dry and sticky. The air conditioner hums quietly but does nothing to prevent the beads of sweat from running down my spine. The nightmare that had torn me from a peaceful sleep crawls across my skin, like skeletal fingers desperate to close around my throat.
Darkness stretches beyond the windows. Ethan is asleep beside me, his breathing steady. One hand is tucked behind his head, the other in mine.
We didn’t sleep together. We’d kissed like horny teenagers at prom, and I’d been tempted to give in to sate the throbbing between my legs, but there was a silent understanding that the line didn’t need to be crossed. We’d crawled into bed and, between kisses, told each other childhood stories, whispering as if anyone could hear us, and must have fallen asleep.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled as much as I have with him. We’d kept the conversation light; he knew only what I wanted him to know, and that’s how it had to be, but I could have relived that time with him over and over. It felt like I’d rewound my life and chosen a meadowed path, not the darkened forest with seemingly no end in sight.
My side of the bed lights up, my phone vibrating across the nightstand. DO NOT ANSWER is calling again.
A tangible terror tiptoes across my skin, like the delicate steps of a spider. Almost three months of no contact with anyone back home. Now, I’m backed into a corner with no option but to reassure him. Even I won’t prolong this cruelty.
I climb out of bed quietly and cross the living area, opening the patio doors. Warm air rushes in to batten down my goosebumps, the morning smell of the sea and the slow lap of waves calming me.
“Here goes,” I whisper and answer the phone. “Seventy-ninth time is the charm,” I sing out the words.
He laughs softly, the sound like dragging my palm across jagged rocks. Deep, rough, and strangely comforting, given the damage he can do. “Hello, little bird. You’re alive, then.”
God, his voice. Why does it always yank out a primal need to have him whisper filth in my ear? My body unfurls at the promise every word held—promises of safety. Of obsession.
I rub my arms, trying to erase the memory of his kiss and how it stole so much from me. “You know I’m alive. I’m willing to bet you know every move I make, even here.”
“Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
“And that person is you?” I ask.
“Hasn’t it always been?”
Yes, it had. I was under his watchful eye, whether I wanted to be or not, and even now, I’m not free of him. His protection, if you could call it that, stretched far and fucking wide.
I play with the button on my dress quietly. “Will you thank Cal for me?”
“I will. If I'd known, I would have called you myself, but he got word first,” he says, and I believe him. His tone softens despite the news he adds. “He’s being dealt with.”
He. Adam.
I resist holding my breath. “Already?”
“He tried to kill you, Denver. Did you think I wouldn’t retaliate?”
Shivers run across me, but I’m unsure if it’s from excitement or appreciation. “How did he know where I was?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll find out soon enough.” I don’t dare ask how. I learned a long time ago that the answers to my questions would keep me up at night. “How is your face? Are you in pain?”
His concern tortures me because it’s genuine. And few people ever had the honor of seeing the genuine side of Ranger Luxe.
“A little,” I admit. “But I’ll be okay.”
He sighs softly. “When are you coming home, little bird?” His voice brushes across me, a whisper before a whiplash, and I close my eyes, picturing he’s with me. Strong arms, golden skin, one hand holding both my wrists, vulnerability paired with absolute certainty that I’m safe.
I almost laugh out loud. Safe . Being with him was as safe as running across a frozen lake with a loaded gun in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other. Shot or stabbed? Pick your fucking poison.
“I don’t want to come home, Ranger.”
Now, his sigh is etched with irritation. It’s a familiar sound, one he uses just before he loses his temper.
“I’m running out of patience, Denver. Do I have to come out there and get you myself?” I chew my lip. It isn’t an empty threat. I’m surprised he hasn’t done it already. “I’ve given you space. I’ve given you freedom. Don’t make me regret being kind.”
I almost spit out a laugh. “Kind?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing while you’re there?” he says. “Do you know how much shit you left behind?” I do. And I don’t need reminding of it. “I can’t guarantee your safety out there.”
I huff in amusement. “The great Ranger Luxe can’t do something? I thought your power knew no bounds.”
“Don’t test me, Denver,” he bites out. “I’m spilling blood for you.”
A chill spreads across my chest, and I grit my teeth against the notion that it’s something he thinks I want. Blood is never what I want. I actively run in the opposite direction of death and always have.
I swallow, but my throat remains dry. “I’m not asking you to.”
“You never have to ask me,” he hits back. “But I do it, don’t I? Without question.”Silence settles between us like it so often does. He exhales softly. “Come home.”
“No.”
“Why are you pretending you’re someone you’re not?” he challenges. “Not many people could do what you?—”
I hang up.
My heart pounds and nausea rolls through me, the phone call sticking to my skin like a layer of sweat. I shouldn’t have answered. I should never have fucking answered.
“Fuck you,” I say and throw the phone into the pool.
Six years I’ve dealt with this, with him. I was in his grasp, his fingers closing around my heart, and had barely escaped with my sanity. Fuck, maybe I’ve lost it and I’m in denial.
But now he has me. I’m collared by his favors and his hands, and there’s nowhere to run.
I go inside, closing the patio door behind me before returning to the bedroom. Wesson is stretched out at the end of the bed, and Ethan is still sleeping.
I crawl over the covers and cuddle into Ethan’s side. I should wake him, tell him to leave, tell him last night was fun, but it can never go further. It isn’t safe for him to be this close to me, and it never will be.
“You’re cold,” he whispers, pulling me closer and rubbing my arm.
Tell him to go. Save him from you.
But then he pulls the covers over my shoulder, squeezing me tightly before kissing my forehead, and I cling to him like a life raft in the shipwreck of my life.
“Denver.”
I stir, groaning into the pillow. Sleep toys with the edges of my brain, a bizarre dream about a peanut butter carousel still singing in my mind. “Go away.”
Ethan laughs softly. “Not a morning person?” I grunt in response. “I’m going back to my room.”
I open one eye, my face half-pressed into the pillow. “What time is it?” I sound like I’ve bitten into that peanut butter carousel, my voice thick and cloying.
“Seven.”
“You better mean PM.”
He brushes my hair back. “Can I see you later?”
Now I’m awake. My sleep-addled brain kicks into high gear, and I stare at the handsome, wonderful, funny man who wants to see me again. The man who made me laugh until my sides hurt, who had kissed me like I was his answer to everything, who had beaten the living daylights out of a threat. A man who might not see his next birthday if he stays with me.
But why am I considering ending what is probably only a few weeks of fun?
Sure, there are risks to knowing me. Blah, blah, gangsters, blah, but what about my happiness? People in my orbit carry the guns, not me—not unless absolutely necessary, anyway. I didn’t choose to be born into this life. I was pushed into this world screaming and covered in blood and will likely leave it the same damn way, but none of that was my choice.
So, maybe I’m jumping the gun. I internally flinch at the wording, but maybe I am. I could have a few weeks of fun with a random guy on vacation. It didn’t mean he’d end up hanging by his ankles from the apple tree in Ranger’s garden, sobbing, bleeding, and eventually promising never to see me again.
That could only happen once in a girl’s life, right?
“Yes.” I smile. “I’d love to see you later.”
Ethan’s smile warms every part of me, and his kiss is soft. “Wanna go to the beach?”
There’s nothing I want to do more.