24. Denver
Chapter 24
Denver
I sit up. The waiter’s shout is followed by a sound I first heard when I was eleven years old. I’d wandered downstairs for a glass of water and was drawn to my father’s study by the sound of wet crunching. I had watched in abstract horror as my father stabbed a man repeatedly and blood covered my mother’s favorite rug.
I hear that sound again, but it isn’t horror that strikes me. It’s relief.
Something thuds as it hits the ground, and I scramble further into the car as Ranger climbs in. His shirt isn’t white anymore, and the smell of iron fills the car.
“Are you hurt?” he asks. His hand is on my face, warm and wet. I stare into the vast darkness of his eyes but see no panic, no fear. Just a man in total control. “Denver, are you hurt?” I shake my head.
The driver’s side door opens, and Cal climbs in. “What are we doing with the?—”
“Fucking leave him there,” Ranger says, tossing the blood-soaked knife into the footwell. “Drive to Pulse.”
I blink myself back into life, the dull throbbing in my chest increasing the more I stare at Ranger’s shirt. “Shouldn’t we go home?”
“No, we’re going to be seen on CCTV like that didn’t happen.” He rolls his neck. “Then I’m going to visit the Ledgers.”
Wyatt’s family. Wyatt’s mother.
My stomach flips. “Ranger, you can’t.”
His gaze burns into me. “That’s the second time they’ve tried to kill you, Denver. And they’re only failing because they’re hiring fucking amateurs.”
Amateurs because Isabelle Ledger doesn’t know our world. Wyatt’s mom wanted no part of it and blamed me for dragging his son into a life of crime, even though he’d been deep into it long before we met. Isabelle hated me, and that dislike will only have deepened since Wyatt’s death.
“What are you going to do? Kill an old woman?” I ask.
“It’s you or her.”
My eyes widen. “Ranger, you cannot be serious. Threaten her, scare her… fucking pay her if you have to, but you cannot kill Wyatt’s mother!”
He runs a hand down his face, blood coating his knuckles.
“When will you get your fucking head around this?” His tone becomes wrath and frustration, his jaw ticking as he glares at me. “You are my fucking priority. Keeping you alive is my fucking priority.”
“And what about my sanity?” I cry. “Do you think I’d be able to live with myself knowing you’d hurt her? She’s grieving, Ranger, she blames me, and you can’t?—”
“I can’t ?” He fires the words at me. “There’s nothing I cannot do, Denver, especially when it comes to protecting you.”
I stare at him, my breath coming in quick and panicked. I have to calm myself, calm him. Ranger was right when he said I manipulated him for years—there were limits to that manipulation, but I honed it. Now I have to work him the right way, not demand things from him.
I swallow and take his blood smeared hand. “Ranger, please. Don’t add more people to my conscience.” He searches my gaze, his stony expression giving nothing away. “Talk to her. Be Ranger Luxe. But please, don’t… don’t kill her. Don’t hurt her. She’ll run out of fire, out of money, and Isabelle will let this go. I know she will.”
It’s a lie. What mother would let her son’s murder slide? But I can deal with that in my own way later.
The car pulls to a stop outside the back entrance to Pulse, and Ranger gets out before answering. I follow, hoping it’s a silent agreement. Harley is waiting by the rear entrance, and she eyes Ranger’s shirt but says nothing as he stalks past her and into the building.
“Bad night?” Harley mumbles.
I sigh. “Don’t ask.”
We walk through the darkened hallway, the volume of the music increasing with each step. Members of staff avert their eyes as we pass, and I wonder if they notice Ranger’s shirt—not that it would matter. No one would be stupid enough to tell a soul worth telling.
“Your friends are in VIP,” Harley says quietly, and I whisper a thank you before she returns to the club.
I climb the metal stairs to the office and let myself in after Ranger.
My legs lock, and I watch as he unbuttons his shirt, throwing the bloodied one onto the couch before retrieving another from a closet.
He pauses, and he sees it. The panic curling around me like smoke.
Another attempt on my life, this one just as close as the last. What if the next one is successful? What if Isabelle finally hires someone good enough to take my life?
“You’re alive,” Ranger’s voice is like a brisk breeze against heavy fog. It banishes the panicked mist, and I force myself to breathe. “Say it.”
“I-I’m alive.”
I’m alive.
I force myself to walk to the windows and look across the gyrating crowd. My heartrate slows, but the churning in my stomach will stick around for hours, no doubt. I focus instead on my surroundings.
On my friends.
VIP is just below the office windows, and I spot Sebastian quickly. Zeke is talking to a girl over the ropes. Ace looks like he’s on cloud nine. Sebastian is talking to Ethan, and Ethan glances around, maybe looking for me. I play with my necklace and smile. They look the same, and I wish I’d appreciated the time with them more. I’d give anything to be at the table enjoying drinks, dancing with Sebastian, or holding Ethan’s hand.
When Ethan finally sees me, I hold my breath. He’s in dark suit pants, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his elbows, the top button loose to reveal the tan he’s maintained since returning home. He looks so handsome, his dark hair brushed back, and if I were closer, I’d gaze into the dark brown of his eyes and see nothing but want.
He mouths a ‘ Hi, ’ and I smile in response.
Ranger moves beside me. I raise my eyes to his as he licks his thumb and rubs it across my cheek gently. “You have blood on you, Deluxe.”
I flinch at the name, and he smirks, standing behind me and sliding his arms around my waist. He pulls my back to his chest, mouth against my ear. “Do you think Ethan would still be here if he knew the truth?”
Despite myself, I relax into him. “You are.”
“Because men like me live for women like you,” he says. “He couldn’t handle it. And he’d bore you.”
I look down at Ethan. He watches us, jaw tight.
“Maybe I want to be bored,” I say quietly.
He laughs into my neck. “That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told, and you’ve told quite a few.” He moves my hair over my shoulder. “One week with him, and you’d come running back, bloodthirsty and begging for me.”
Goosebumps lick my spine. He kisses my neck, and I wish my body wouldn’t react like this around him—like this is normal, like it’s natural. Like I’m made to be in his grasp.
“Why did you forgive me?” I ask, eyes still on Ethan.
“Forgive you for what?”
“Wyatt.”
He sighs softly, not frustrated but maybe sad. “Denver, I know that night was a turning point for you. Guns. Blood. Murder.” The final word feels wrapped in silk, and I shudder breathlessly. “But do you know what it was for me?”
My voice is hardly a whisper. “What?”
“A Thursday.” He kisses my neck, and my stomach clenches. “Days like that are a dime a dozen. Lives, their lives.” He nods to the crowd below us. “They mean nothing. They amount to nothing. Taking Wyatt’s life meant nothing, especially if it kept you safe.”
I rest a trembling hand on the arm he has wrapped around my waist. “You frighten me when you say things like that.”
“No,” he says, turning me to face him. “I excite you. And that’s why you’ll never be bored.”
I rest my hands on his chest, hating that he’s right. Remembering how Ranger acted the night Wyatt died both terrified and thrilled me. It had been so easy for him to decide what happened, as simple as picking a meal at dinner, because he was protecting me.
“You know I could forgive you for anything,” he says, his thumb stroking my jaw. “Except leaving me.”
I forget the wall of glass where everyone can see us, I even forget Ethan, because being like this with Ranger is like being in a world of our own. A world with no rules. A world where I want him to kiss me because I need his love.
“Ranger—”
“Not yet, little bird.” He steps back, and I feel cold without him close. He snatches away what I shouldn’t want just as it had started to taste sweet. “Cal will stay close. I’ll see you at home.”
He heads for the door, and I rub the chill from my arms as I say, “What about Isabelle Ledger?”
Ranger pulls open the door. “She dies.”
He leaves.
The two words drift over me, my reaction not as jarring as it should be because I knew. For all my cajoling, my soft words, and handholding, even I only have so much power over Ranger Luxe.
I’d approached it wrong. I’d demanded too quickly, pleaded too desperately, and now he knows giving in makes him look weak.
I scroll through my list of contacts, lifting my chin as I tap Isabelle’s name and hold the phone to my ear. It rings three times, and Isabelle says nothing when the call connects. No greeting, no anger that I survived another attempt on my life.
I almost wish my mother-in-law would scream at me. I want to be blamed, to be hurt, to die for what had happened to Wyatt. But I can only hear shaky breathing—fear or anger. Or simply grief.
“You need to leave,” I say. “Ranger is coming for you, and he won’t give up. Buy a plane ticket with cash, take what you can, and if you need money?—”
“I don’t want your money.” Isabelle’s voice shakes, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
“If you need money, just call me.” I’m ready to hang up, to toss my phone away like it’s close to catching fire.
“Admit you did it,” Isabelle says, her voice gaining strength. “Just… admit it. Admit you killed him.”
I look across the throng of dancing bodies and neon lights. Of laughter, drinking, celebration, and then at Ethan’s table. He’s gone, no doubt furious or upset at seeing how I was with Ranger. Another person hurt; another man broken because of Denver Luxe.
“You don’t have much time. Good luck.” I hang up.
I have no time to process the lump in my throat or worry about the repercussions of what I’ve just done. A commotion below catches my eye—Axel is here. He’s in Zeke’s face, the two men arguing.
“Shit.” I leave the office, thundering down the stairs and into the noise of the club. The music booms, the smell of perfume and hot bodies stifling. Harley is by my side.
“Should I call security?” she asks.
“No, I’ll deal with Axel. Just make sure no one takes photos.” I get to the VIP level fast, stepping over the ropes and positioning myself between Axel and Zeke.
“Axel, back off,” I say, my ears already aching from the pulse of the music.
“This guy was all over Izzy!” Axel says, pointing at Zeke.
“You’ll forget Izzy’s name by tomorrow!” I say. “Back off!”
Axel glares past me and at Zeke. It might have been a mistake not to call security. There’s nothing I can do, not really.
“Your dad is outside, Ax,” I say. “He won’t be happy if you do this with everyone watching.”
Axel’s posture changes suddenly, no longer squared up but shrinking back. “Fuck. Sorry, Denver.”
I glance behind me. People are looking; most are filming. Security is trying to move everyone back, but there are too many people eager to look at fucking Deluxe. One guy is close to the ropes, camera out, reaching for me.
“Stop that!” Axel shouts, trying to snatch the phone away from the stranger.
“Axel, don’t,” I say, moving between them, facing Axel. “Go before this gets worse.”
Camera lights flash. The guy is pawing at my arms, trying to turn me, talking in my ear about getting a good selfie. More camera flashes, people are calling my name, that goddamn nickname. The guy has his hand around my arm, and I can feel my blood boiling. I’m so fucking tired of people thinking I’m their source of entertainment.
Suddenly, his hands are gone. There’s a shout, a sickening crack, and I spin on my heel. The man is on the ground, his nose bleeding, Ethan standing over him.
I stare at Ethan wide-eyed, and he shakes out his fist, already looking apologetic. And now everyone’s cameras are pointing at him.
“Nice!” Axel says, laughing. He leans over the ropes to shake Ethan’s hand. “Beat me to it. What’s your name?”
Ethan glances at me before shaking Axel’s hand. “Ethan.”
Axel catches my eye and grins. “Oh! This is Ethan?”
I flush from the fight and the fact that Axel is meeting my non-boyfriend for the first time.
“What do you want me to do, Denver?” Dean, the club security, asks in my ear.
I drag my attention from Axel. “Destroy every phone you see. I don’t give a shit what they say. And anyone filming, throw them out. They’re banned for life.” I turn to Axel. “Go. Take your friends out the back way.”
He opens his mouth to argue, then clearly thinks better of it. He heads toward the back exit with his friends.
Ethan’s strong hand takes mine. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m really not,” I say. “You have to go. Everyone filmed you doing that.”
“Denver, I don’t care about?—”
“I do,” I say. We’re too close. We’re in public and touching. Ranger has already proved how much he watches these tapes, and I can only hope he’s still driving home so isn’t watching right now. “Go, now.”
I head for the exit, and once I’m back in the darkened hall, I scream out my frustration. Just as I think things are becoming manageable, everything is thrown into the air again. I never get a goddamn break.
“Denver.” Ethan catches the door before it closes behind me and follows me into the backroom.
I shake my head rapidly. “You can’t be here. There are cameras.”
“Are you with Ranger?”
I glance at the security camera in the corner of the room, wondering if I can erase the tape. Panic spreads through me, tightening my lungs and quickening my heart.
“Denver, are you with him?” he repeats.
“That’s really what you’re asking right now?”
He steps further the backroom, and the door closes behind him. I glance again at the camera. “Ethan, you cannot be here.”
“I’m scared for you, Denver. Why can’t you?—”
“You need to go. He cannot know you were back here!” I try to push him back, but he won’t move. “Ethan, go!”
This is such a mess. Isabelle, Ethan, Axel—I knew this would happen. I’ve come home, and everything has unraveled. I have unraveled. Heat spreads across my skin, my cheeks tingling with the urge to vomit, legs trembling with the urge to run, run, run, and never come back?—
“Denver, look at you. You’re fucking terrified. If it’s because of Ranger, you need to leave him.”
The red light. The camera. Ranger’s words. Wyatt’s eyes.
“It’s not because of him!” I insist.
“Say the word, Denver.”
“Then why?”
“It’s because I killed Wyatt!”