40. Denver
Chapter 40
Denver
H eavy rain drops like stones on a sea of black umbrellas, the steel clouds darkening with every passing minute. The forecast said rain, and the forecast was right, but I didn’t think the day would appear so menacing.
I rest my hand on the trunk of a tree and watch from a distance. A crowd of people in black huddle together against torrential rain and say goodbye to a man who fought demons and won but had died anyway.
A man who didn’t deserve to die the way he did, and he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t met me.
Ace steps up to the small podium, and even from where I stand, I see his pain. Rain plasters his hair to his forehead, his umbrella forgotten, and I wonder if he hoped the rain would hide the tears he sheds for his best friend.Zeke speaks next. Then a man I assume is Ethan’s father.
Eleven people died on my wedding day. In a hail of bullets, they lost their lives, and it was all for power.Wilder Harland had escaped again with his pathetic life. Run back to New York, no doubt. He’d be back. Ranger said they always came back.
I’ll be ready when he does.
As the crowd disperses and the rain stops, one figure remains. It’s only then that I find my courage and walk across muddy grass to stand by his side.
He has no umbrella. His suit is soaked through, and his shoes are muddy.
“You didn’t say anything?” I ask cautiously, hoping he understands that I’m asking out of concern.
He shakes his head, the movement barely noticeable. “Couldn’t.”
“What did Ace say?”
“He told a story from school,” Sebastian says quietly.
Ace had kept his hand over Sebastian’s gunshot wounds until the police arrived. He’d saved his friend’s life. Zeke had done all he could to try to save Archer, but he’d died almost instantly.
“This is your fault,” Sebastian says.
I expected that, but still, the blow dealt by those words steals my breath. I look away, tears blurring my eyes, and close my hand around the guitar pick in my pocket.
“I know,” I say. “But I’ll find the man who did it, Sebastian.”
His laugh is bitter. “And then what?”
“I’ll kill him.”
Sebastian faces me, rage in his eyes. “What’s the fucking point? It won’t bring them back, and it won’t make any of us feel better.”
“Then tell me what to do,” I whisper. “Tell me how I can fix it.”
“You can’t fix it ,” he bites out, his eyes brimming with despair. “They are dead because of you, and there’s no changing that.”
He turns and walks away, and my chest feels close to collapsing. I created a thousand scenarios in which Sebastian hated me but had hoped I was wrong. I’d hoped he could find it in his heart to forgive me for taking his best friend and brother from him.
“Sebastian, please,” I call out, and he stops. It’s selfish of me to cry, isn’t it? I didn’t pull the trigger, but Ethan was in the firing line because he knew me. I have no right to shed tears, but I do anyway. “I’m sorry.”
Sebastian’s shoulders tense, and the rain starts falling once more.
“Stay the fuck away from us.”
He walks away, leaving me with rain and tears on my cheeks.
I drop my purse on the side table and slip off my muddied heels. The marble floor is pristine, and the last thing I need is Martha scolding me for dirtying it.
Low conversation floats from Ranger’s office, and I head toward it on my stockinged feet. Cal is seated before Ranger’s desk, looking as tired as I feel, and Wesson is curled up in his bed in the corner, snoozing quietly. Behind the desk sits Ranger.
We’d both been arrested that day. Despite the death count clearly being higher on our side, the police used it as an opportunity to drag both Luxes into questioning. I had sat in my bloodstained wedding dress for four hours before Dennis stormed into the room and threatened to tear the detective to pieces (legally) if I wasn’t released immediately.
When I stepped out of that interrogation room, Ranger was waiting in the hallway. He’d glanced over me, and I saw such potent rage in his eyes that it warmed me. When he took my hand and led me to the car, I curled up in his lap in the backseat.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t speak. He just held me and made a promise.
“We’ll kill them all.”
I believe him.
Leaning against the doorframe, I feel Ranger’s gaze on me as I focus on my nails.
“How did it go?” he asks.
I shrug. “Rain. Grave. Tears. The usual.” He says nothing in response. I shift my attention to Cal. “Did you find anything in Nevada?”
Cal is looking for Wilder or his men. Anyone connected to that day, anyone we can punish. Ranger got word that Wilder had been spotted in Vegas.
Ranger says, “Cal, you can get some sleep. I’ll speak to Denver.”
Anxiety curls in my gut as Cal stands, and he squeezes my hand as he passes. I don’t return the sentiment like I usually would. Both he and Ranger lied to me the night Wyatt died, and though I tell myself I’ve forgiven them both, things aren’t the same. I wonder if they will ever be the same. Cal closes the door softly behind him.
Ranger holds out his hand, and I go to him, sitting on his lap. He wraps his arms around me, pressing a kiss to my hair. “How did it go today? And don’t lie this time.”
I take in a shaky breath. I rehearsed what to say the entire drive home, wondering if I should lie to protect my pride or avoid this conversation. If no one else knows what Sebastian said, maybe I can pretend he’d never said anything at all.
“He blames me,” I whisper.
Ranger circles his thumb across my hip. “He’s wrong.”
“Is he?”
“Did you shoot Ethan?”
“No, but?—”
“Denver.” Ranger’s voice is firm but not cruel. He touches my jaw and tilts my head up to meet his eye. “People die. You cannot control or take on the actions of others. Otherwise, you’ll die, too. You’ll obsess over every moment, every word, every breath you took that night, and you’ll make a mistake, and the next bullet will be in your chest.” He cups the back of my head, his gaze hardening into a desperate kind of love. “Be sharp, Denver, because I cannot live without you. I refuse to.”
I swallow a sob and nod. He kisses my cheeks, my nose, my chin, and finally, my lips. It’s fleeting but powerful, and he presses his forehead to mine.
“We found one of them.”
Something lurches through me. Adrenaline. Fear. Power.
Ranger holds my hand as he leads me through the house. The floor is cold, but Ranger’s palm is warm.
We walk down the narrow stairs to the basement. The lights hum, and one flickers, and I make a mental reminder to get it fixed. Ranger stops in front of a desk and faces the center of the room. The space where Wyatt died.
A man is tied to a chair, tape around his mouth, wrists, and ankles. A few of his fingers are missing, some nails, too, and he smells like gasoline. Blood pours from his nose, joining the sweat that glistens across his skin. His green eyes are wide and bloodshot, and he tracks me as I take my place by Ranger’s side.
A gun lies on the desk.
“Does he know anything?” I ask. Ranger shakes his head. “Is he important to them?”
Ranger leans against the desk. “Neither Harland has come to collect him, so I’d say no.”
The man’s gaze darts between Ranger and me.
“So, he’s worthless.”
Ranger shrugs a shoulder. “For information, yes. For revenge?” He meets my eye. “That’s up to you.”
Not long ago, I stood on a dancefloor in Ranger’s arms and vowed to myself never to take another life. I was stepping into a role I couldn’t avoid, but that didn’t equal murder. There are legitimate businesses owned by Luxe Industries, and I could run them all. My celebrity alone could keep me busy with interviews, brand deals, and red carpet events.
I stand at a crossroads once more, but the meadowed path I wished I’d taken all those years ago feels like a lie now. Sunshine and rainbows, flowers and hollowness.
Happiness is fragments.
Power is whole.
I consider the man before me. He might not have been the one who pulled the trigger that ended Ethan’s life, but neither was I, and yet, Sebastian blames me.
I can blame this man, too.
Ranger is right. It’s up to me to decide whether he’s worthless or not.
Revenge. A dish best served cold, apparently. But I feel distinctly warm as I pick up Ranger’s gun, hold it to the man’s head, and pull the trigger.