17. Denver
Chapter 17
Denver
I squeeze Ethan’s hand after he laces our fingers together. His other hand is wrapped around the handle of my suitcase, the conversation of other passengers muffled beneath the sound of my heart.
Ethan kisses my temple. “Ready?”
No, I’m not, but I nod anyway. Tightening my grip on Wesson’s leash, we head inside.
“Ms. Luxe,” a voice cuts through the bustle of the airport. A suited man approaches with quick strides, his attention on me. “Mr. Luxe thought you’d be more comfortable taking the jet home.” Of course he did. That way, Ranger will know every move I make. He’ll know my drink order, if I eat, sleep, or cry. I’m not home yet, but he’s already closing his grip on me. The suited man holds his hand out to Ethan. “Bags, please.” Ethan’s jaw tenses, but he hands over my suitcase.
“Passport,” the man adds.
Ethan frowns. “She doesn’t have to give you her damn passport?—”
“It’s fine,” I say, taking it out and handing it over. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
The suited man nods and moves away. I release Ethan’s hand to play with my necklace, dragging the pendant across the chain.
Ethan pulls me close. “Listen, I don’t want to add any more pressure to this fucked up situation, so I’ll just say this.” He brushes my hair back. “I want to be with you.”
My face tingles, tears welling behind my eyes. I place my palms flat on his chest. “Ethan?—”
“Please… let me finish,” he says, focusing on my necklace and taking a deep breath. “I want you. No matter what comes with that, I want you. But… I also know it isn’t that simple and might never be. So, I need you to know I’m here. I’ll wait for you. We’ll figure something out, even if it’s just pieces of you.”
A tear slips down my cheek. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
He wipes the tear away, his knuckles soft against my skin. “You’re not asking me. I’m telling you. I can’t let you go, so I’m here whenever you need me, want me… I’m not going anywhere.” Fishing a small piece of paper out of his pocket, he pushes it into my hand and closes my fingers over it. “He’ll probably check your phone, so keep this. It’s my number and my address for home and work. If you need me, come to me. No matter what it is.” Before I can object, he kisses me, and instead of being smart and pulling away, I lean into him. I mold myself into his body, my arms around his neck, and let myself enjoy these final moments because I can’t use him. I can’t take fragments of him, no matter how much I’ll need them.
The kiss ends, and my face is damp with tears, my body trembling. I cling to his t-shirt and curse my life. I curse my dad for being the man he was and Ranger for loving me.
Ethan cups my face. “I hate you.”
I laugh through my tears, though my heart is torn to pieces, as delicate as shredded butterfly wings. “The feeling is mutual.”
He crouches and ruffles Wesson’s ears. “Be a good boy, okay?” Wesson wiggles excitedly, and Ethan stands and kisses me one final time. “Bye.”
“Bye.” I turn. Every step leads me deeper into darkness, into a life that promises only blood and bullets, into the arms of a man who might sooner kill me than lose me.
The sounds of the airport are muffled as I follow the suited man. I don’t look back at Ethan; I can’t because I’d run back into his arms. Palming away tears, the echo of rushed footsteps and conversation become open air as I cross the hangar to the jet.
“Good morning, Ms. Luxe.” The air hostess smiles warmly. “Can I take your jacket?”
I thank her, shake my head and turn to head for one of the many empty cream-leather seats. Wesson dances excitedly inside and hops onto the sofa, but I freeze when I see Ranger.
His frame is massive, even in the empty space of the private jet. His suit is pressed to perfection, not a speck of dust or lint to mar the dark fabric that clings to his muscular body. Leg crossed, elbow against the armrest, his face remains void of expression as I find the strength to move again.
“Good morning, little bird,” he says, nodding at the seat beside him. An iPad is resting on his thigh. “Ready to go home?”
I shrug off the impact of his presence and the smell of expensive cologne as I sit. “Not particularly.”
He holds out his hand. “Wallet.”
“But where will I keep my ‘I Hate Ranger’ membership card?” I ask with mock concern, before slapping my wallet into his hand.
“Maybe there’s an app for it,” he says, opening my wallet. “Credit card, Denver.”
I sigh. I’d slipped my card into my pocket on the walk to the hangar, hoping to hold onto one small piece of freedom. I hand it to him.
“Anything else? I probably don’t need both kidneys,” I say.
“Seatbelt.”
“I’d rather leave it off and hope for severe turbulence.”
He leans over and clips my seatbelt closed, and I press myself back into the seat.
“Death won’t save you from me, little bird,” he says. I look out the small window, my chest tight. Ranger refocuses on his iPad. “Did you get rid of your plaything?”
“Nothing to get rid of,” I say. “It was barely anything.”
“You spent every day with him, Denver.”
I stare at him. “Do you know positions, too?”
“Something tells me he’s mainly a missionary man,” he says, not moving his eyes from the screen.
“He’s more of a man than you are.”
Ranger closes the iPad cover with a snap. He slowly drums his fingers against his leg, each finger dropping in rhythm, and says nothing. My heart races and my throat is painfully dry as I watch him.
“Say that to me again,” he says.
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t have to. His words are enough to pin me in place.
I say nothing.
“I recommend not using him as a weapon from this point onward, little bird,” he says. “I won’t hurt you. But I will hurt him.”
My shoulders tense. “Or you could just let me be happy.”
He laughs, the sound a rumble in his chest. “You can go to him if you like. I’ve never restrained you in my house. If you want Ethan, then go right ahead.” He locks eyes with me. “I’ll just kill him.”
Panic grips my heart. “Ranger.”
“You said you were coming home to me. Do you intend to keep that promise?”
I nod.
We sit in silence for most of the flight, and I try not to remember how we used to be. If this journey had been six months ago, I’d be teasing him or trying to snatch his iPad from his hands. I wish I could go back to how we were, if only to make these moments easier.
“Is Axel home?” I ask.
“I never know where Axel is,” he says. “I only know he’s alive because he’s spending my money.”
I twist my fingers. Axel didn’t have the best upbringing. Ranger largely ignores him, and while part of me is grateful that Axel has some distance from the life his father leads, he’s desperate for Ranger’s attention, sometimes in the worst way. He acts out because feeling Ranger’s wrath is better than nothing, and I wonder what kind of trouble he’s gotten into in the months I’ve been gone.
Once we’re in the sky, I think about Ethan. He has two more days of vacation left, and I hope he makes the most of it. Soon, he’ll be back in San Francisco, and a quick glance at the piece of paper he gave me tells me he lives barely fifteen minutes from the house I shared with Wyatt. He’ll be so close, and I won’t be able to touch him.
“Is there something you need?”
I glance over at Ranger, but he’s talking to Wesson. The dog has abandoned the sofa and is sitting in front of Ranger, tongue out, tail lazily sweeping the carpeted floors.
Ranger grumbles under his breath and dips his hand into the side pocket of his chair.
“You’re spoiled,” he declares before handing the dog a biscuit. Wesson’s tail hits hyper-speed as he nuzzles the biscuit out of Ranger’s palm.
“You’re the one who spoils him,” I point out.
Ranger runs a large palm over Wesson’s head. “Because he’s the only one in the house that likes me.”
I tut. “Oh, woe is you. And the only reason he does like you is because he doesn’t understand the shit you do.”
“Or maybe a predator recognizes a predator,” Ranger says, smirking at me.
“Do not compare yourself to a golden retriever. It’s an insult to a good-natured breed.”
Ranger chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “You know, Wyatt came to me before he got Wesson. Asked my advice on which dog he thought you’d like most.”
I twitch at the mention of Wyatt but hide the reaction quickly. Ranger focuses on Wesson again, and the dog wanders away and settles back on a couch.
“He almost got you a poodle.”
I chuff a laugh. “A poodle? Does he even know me?”
“Wrong tense, little bird.”
My smile vanishes, and he may as well have slapped it off my face.
“Keep that up for the police, though.” He reopens his iPad. “It’s far more believable if you talk about him like he isn’t six feet under.”
I snatch the iPad and throw it across the plane. It thuds to the ground, sliding beneath another chair. My heart bangs against my chest, my cheeks hot with the anger that pulses through me.
“Pick it up, Denver.”
“No.”
He snatches my wrist, not hard enough to hurt but enough to have me hold my breath. “Go and pick it up, and crawl back to me.” I hate that heat lances through me and that when he releases my wrist to seize the back of my neck, I tremble with something other than fear. I see it in him, too. Desire floods the pits of his eyes like the fires of hell have come to claim me. “You didn’t have an issue getting on your knees for me all those months ago. Have you gained a conscience?”
“At least one of us has.”
“The weaker one,” he bites back, but his eyes drop to my lips. The rising tension is like steam settling on my skin, dampening and warming me all at once. “Do you know how many women I’ve fucked on this plane while imagining they were you?” I try to wrestle free. If I’m too close when he speaks like this, my body will make a decision that my mind begs me not to. But he won’t release me, and his darkened gaze is the eye of a storm, and I stop pulling against his hold. “They wanted me to call them Denver. But I never did. Do you know why?”
“Stop it,” I whisper.
“Because they could never compare. No one ever fucking did.” His grip on my neck tightens, and I inhale sharply.
My lips part, and I whisper, “You better give them a call, then, because I’m never letting you near me again.” Rage tears through his gaze, but even now, I know he won’t hurt me. “You can claim I’m yours, you can keep me in your house, hell, you can fucking marry me if you want to. But I will never let you touch me. And just like everyone else in your life, I’ll never love you.”
I regret the words the moment I say them, but they do what I want. I wanted to hurt him, to get the upper hand, and I do it with a weapon I’ve never used so cruelly before.
His anger is dampened by hurt, the kind of hurt I saw the night I told him about being with Wyatt. It’s a look I hoped to never see again, but this time, I got a front-row seat to that pain, and I hate myself for it.
“Mr. Luxe.” The tentative voice of the air hostess shatters the tension, but the pieces still rain down and cut. Ranger releases my neck.
“What?” He cuts out the word, and the hostess takes stiff steps to our seats and hands him his iPad.
“We’re landing soon.”
Ranger says nothing, and neither do I. I return my attention to the window, close my eyes, and think about Ethan.