Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Briar
I move fully behind Keir, tugging on the back of his jeans. “Okay, we’re going. Don’t hurt him. He’s not the one you’re upset with.”
“I know who my enemies are,” Jameson snarls. “Move now.”
Yanking on Keir with all my might works, and he backs up with me.
He’s using his body as a human shield, and I hate it. The sides of my vision go fuzzy as memories of how easily bullets can fly through bodies replay in my mind.
Though Keir might not be able to stop a bullet from going through him and hitting me, it’s the thought that counts. Not even my father protected my mother at the wedding, but Keir is a true alpha.
I stumble over my own feet, and my hand slides into the waistband of Keir’s jeans to keep myself upright. The cool metal of the gun at the base of his spine brushes against my fingers, but I don’t yank it free.
Jameson was in the military, like almost all the guys at Shadow.
I’ve had exactly one lesson on how to use a firearm.
I’m outmatched in every way, but if we can get inside the building, maybe we can use the door to our advantage long enough for Keir to grab one of the many guns he’s got on his person. I saw the holster under his jacket when we kissed outside the shooting range.
The back of my head slams against the wall as I retreat, and a squeak escapes my lips.
“Enter your code,” Jameson directs. “One fucking day—that’s how long it took for Easton to lock me out.”
Keir steps to the side as I turn to type in my code on the key panel. My fingers move swiftly, but I pray Keir is completely blocking me from view, because I don’t just enter my code. I also add 9-1-1 immediately following it before hitting the pound key.
Calder told me it was for emergencies only, but if anyone ever tried to force me to bring them into the building or if I was being followed to do it.
So, I do.
Hopefully it’ll alert Calder and Easton that there’s an emergency, because this feels like it’s going to get bad really fast.
The door clicks like it always does when the lock disengages.
“S-Should I open it?” I ask.
“Yes!” Jameson sounds even more agitated, and the scent of my fear floods the air.
I tug the door open enough to slip inside and turn back to help guide Keir, but a hand wraps around my mouth. I’m pulled backward inside the building and moved to the wall just beside the back door.
I melt into the chest of the body holding me as soon as the smell hits me.
It’s Calder.
I recognize the rainy, fresh scent, even if I can’t see him.
“Shh, it’s okay, Easton is going to handle it,” Calder says close to my ear. He kisses my cheek, which would be soothing if I wasn’t terrified for Keir.
“You know she was a virgin?” Jameson taunts, and my entire body goes rigid.
That’s solely because I had no control over my body or my plans in life until my father died, but Jameson doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know about my family or my history at all.
Part of my marriage contract outlined that I had to be untouched on our wedding night.
My shitty husband didn’t have the same requirements, but his clause was that he must disclose any existing children he had or any children born not to me during our marriage. Even the terms painted a pretty grim future for me. If they had to put it in writing, they must have thought it was a good possibility it would happen.
Only, Avan’s guards were terrible at discretion, and I learned he actually had a daughter with a woman named Brooklyn. She’s the one he slapped me for asking about, but at that point, I had no idea they had a child together.
I discovered that four hours before our ceremony, but I kept the information to myself. Knowing my father, he would have called for the woman and child’s life as forfeit in order for us to go through with the union. Putting someone else’s life in danger just for a chance to get out of our marriage wasn’t something I was willing to risk.
Although, I did hope I could leverage that information at some point to get Avan to give me some autonomy. But then the massacre happened and it became a moot point.
“I can’t wait to see Easton’s face when he has to swallow down that realization.” Jameson chuckles darkly as Keir backs into the doorway with his palms raised. “I hope he fucking chokes on it.”
God, if Calder wasn’t restraining me, I might actually grab the gun from Keir’s waistband and try my luck at shooting Jameson. His cocky tone makes it clear he never cared about me.
“You’re the only person who gives a shit about that,” Keir growls. “But you can tell him yourself.”
Why is he taunting him? Does he want Jameson to snap and shoot him in the face?
Keir nods to the area behind Jameson that I can’t see. It almost feels like he’s telling Jameson to look behind him.
Only, before I can blink, Keir brings his right leg up in a high kick that I would think would be impossible in jeans.
Jameson’s gun goes off.
I shriek against Calder’s palm.
The bullet lands, embedding in the wall across from me and Calder.
My ears echo from the loud explosion, but a second later, a terrible crunching sound fills the air.
Keir follows the rotation of his kick, spinning back toward the doorway.
I stretch forward, fighting against Calder’s hold.
Jameson lands with a thump against the runner of carpet just inside the door.
If I had to take a guess, I’d say his neck is broken, but I can’t believe Keir could accomplish that with a kick.
“He always wears a smartwatch,” Calder says, releasing his hold on my mouth. “You need to get that off now. If anyone subpoenas his phone records, his health information could be stored in the cloud.”
“Got it,” Keir says, falling to a crouch.
Easton steps in the door, allowing it to close loudly behind him. His chest heaves as he shoves his long, dark hair back from his forehead. His head swivels, and he looks at me. “I really wanted to slit his throat, but I know you were exposed to a lot of blood during that farce of a ceremony you were forced to endure.” He shrugs. “And I did promise to break his neck. I do my best to always keep my word.” He gestures to Jameson, and all I can manage to do is slow blink.
Calder runs his hand over my stomach as I lean against him for support.
My pulse pounds in my ears, and I barely choke out, “What do we do now? Does this count as self-defense?”
Easton’s face goes blank. “I have no plans to deal with the police today.”
Oh, God.
I really did escape a life of violence just to stumble right into equally dangerous men.
Easton sends Calder up to handle fixing anything that could be caught on the security cameras before calling in one of the teams. He helps Keir roll Jameson up in the runner of carpet, and they shove his body into the maintenance closet.
“Wait for Leo and Shaw.” Easton nods at Keir. “Then call Charles. Tell him to get his team over here. I want the entire floor and all the Sheetrock pulled out by morning. Don’t forget Jameson’s vehicle.”
“Understood,” Keir agrees, studying me like he’s concerned, but he sure doesn’t stop Easton from dragging me toward the elevator.
“You really are the king, huh? You murder someone, and everyone else cleans up the evidence?” I ask as he slams the button to go up . The doors open immediately, and I scurry inside. “Must be nice.”
Easton follows me in. He doesn’t give me space, instead stopping directly in front of me. I brace myself to keep from backing into the panel where you select your floor. “I know what you’re doing.”
My head tilts.
Well, that makes one of us, because I have no idea why I’m trying to push his buttons. It’s almost like I lost my self-preservation skills when I met him.
“You’re testing me.” He brings a hand up, running his thumb over my lower lip. “Do you expect me to blame you for Jameson’s actions? That altercation lies on my shoulders. I should have handled him yesterday when he put his hands on you.”
My stomach twists. It’s a weird feeling that I can’t really describe. He looks so earnest that everything in me wants to believe the explosion isn’t coming.
I think he’s right, though.
My system knows what comes next, and I’d rather get it out of the way than to have to wonder how bad it’s going to be if it continues to build up.
My father once killed a homeless man that my mother was fond of simply because he gave her a rose. She regularly snuck him money when we were out on walks to the park.
Only, my father found out and made it a teachable moment for both of us.
And that was my fault.
The chatty eight-year-old version of me got that man killed, all because I didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut.
Not that current me is that much more evolved, or I would have held my tongue with Avan when I heard the guards mention Brooklyn.
“One day, you’re going to trust that I would rather carve out my own heart than to hurt you.” Easton’s thumb teases over my lower lip. “You’re probably going to hate me by the end of it, but I’m going to train you how to keep yourself alive in any situation. Where to stab if you want to make someone hurt and where to aim if you want an immediate kill. Then we’ll both know you’re at my side because you want to be.” The clicking of one of the floor buttons echoes through the air as his lips ghost over mine. The elevator doors slide closed, and I don’t know what to do with myself. It already feels like there’s not enough oxygen in this small space. “Now tell me, are you okay? Would you like a hug?”
I’m sure a dubious look crosses my face.
Easton is really fucking confusing at times, but I also slap his hand away and wrap my arms under his. I might be embarrassed about this later, but I cling to his chest, sucking in deep lungfuls of his electric scent.
“You have to be careful. I don’t want you to end up in prison because of me,” I whisper, realizing my words are true.
He might be a giant, unpredictable pain in the ass, but he’s growing on me.
A little.
Easton strides toward his office, and I break away to step over to my desk. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and he gives me a firm but gentle tug.
I spin to face him. “Did you need something?”
“I do.” He guides me into his office and around his massive desk. “I have calls to make, and you’ll sit with me while I handle that.”
He places himself down in his chair and reaches for my hips while I’m still trying to determine if he’s not letting me out of his sight because he thinks I’ll call the cops.
I’m not that ungrateful.
The closer you are to someone, the more likely you are to be a suspect if said person goes missing.
I’m afraid this is a huge mess just waiting to explode in all our faces.
He turns my back to him, lifts me, and places me on his thighs. I’m not light, but he makes it seem easy.
“I can scent your stress. It’s got me ready to climb out of my fucking skin.” He sighs, running his hand over my stomach. “I’ve got this, love. All you have to do is trust me.”
I rest my head against his shoulder and nod.
That does sound nice. More than that, it would be a pleasant change of pace to have someone in my life who is genuinely worth trusting.
I’m pretty sure I was so desperate for physical affection that I latched on to the first guy who showed me even an ounce of attention.
Jameson ended up being not that great, and the big question is…am I doing that all over again?