Chapter 17
Colt
Denver gives me a wicked grin as Holly takes her hand and they go to the next house. I’m jealous but smiling, happy that they’re getting along. She glances back at me once as she rubs her neck, and I wink.
Lewis is beside me. “Do we get candy?”
“Why else do you think I’m here?” I ask, and he smiles.
I like Lewis. He could have been territorial over Charlie taking over, but he wasn’t. His priority is keeping Denver safe, not being in charge, and that’s what she needs.
The thought is a little jarring. I don’t know what she needs—not even what she wants. All I know is she’s in a city she doesn’t know, and I want to keep her safe. As I would anyone.
The woman at the house is talking to Holly, and Holly is nodding enthusiastically.
She was looking forward to tonight for weeks, but I still almost canceled.
It’s too busy, too open, and even though not everyone knows my face yet, I’m still a target.
But I couldn’t let her go out with Wilder, who is a beacon of fucking danger at the moment, and I’ll never trust anyone more than me to make sure she’s safe.
Holly is by the door, and my gaze lands on Denver as she waits by the gate. Talking to some guy. Laughing with some guy.
“Who the fuck is that?” I ask Lewis.
He shrugs. “Another parent, I’m guessing.”
The “other parent” laughs, and Denver beams at him. “He looks suspicious.”
“He’s holding Bluey backpacks,” Lewis says. “In what way is that suspicious?”
My frown deepens as Denver heads over to stand with Holly. “He just is. Go and move him.”
“No,” he says. “Stop being possessive.”
The laugh that barks out of me is obscenely loud. “I am not being possessive.”
He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t go to move the clearly suspicious man. He probably isn’t even a parent.
Why am I the only one worried about this?
I drag my gaze from Denver to the car that turns the corner. It’s crawling, but most vehicles around here do at this time. There are kids everywhere; it’s safer to go slower, but …
My instincts are like a lightning bolt under my skin. The car slowing almost to a stop. The window lowering. And then I lock eyes with Denver, and the man holding her wrist.
Holly. Where’s Holly?
As if she can read my panic, Denver glances back at the house. Holly will be inside. Denver will have made sure of it.
I reach for my gun, but she shakes her head. There are kids everywhere. Me firing a weapon will mean that man will too, and whoever is in that fucking car will follow their lead.
Denver keeps her eyes on me as the man tugs her from the steps and onto the sidewalk. The car stops, the back door opening.
Panic blasts through my blood.
They’re going to take her.
The world slows as she steps closer to the car. If she gets in, she’s lost. A name on a list. A memory.
No.
Not a fucking chance.
They can’t take her.
They can’t take her from me.
“Lewis,” I say. “Under no circumstance does that car leave this street.”
I stride toward Denver before he can respond and reach into my coat. It isn’t only a gun I have with me, and if I have a quieter way to deal with this, I will. The man is distracted as Denver tugs him to a stop, and he’s whispering in her ear, his face contorted with rage.
I’m quick. No hesitation. No time to second guess what I’m about to do. By the time he notices me, I have one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other burying my knife in his gut. We’re almost at eye level, and he’s blinking fast, his mouth opening and closing as I sink the knife deeper.
“You don’t take from me.” I say quietly, blood spilling over my hand as I drag the blade across his abdomen. He lets out a strangled sound. “A shame you can’t pass that message on.”
A gunshot splits the sound of children’s laughter.
Screams replace family conversation. Careful-moving crowds become panicked dashes for cover.
I yank my knife free from the man’s stomach and pull Denver into my chest, stepping away from the car.
She reaches into my coat and takes out my gun, one arm secured around my waist as she aims at the car and fires.
Bullets collide with secure glass, spiderwebs of white splitting the darkened windows. Instructions are shouted from my men, Charlie’s, and the men in the car. Parents are on their knees, hugging children to their chests.
“Denver, down!” Lewis booms, and I pull her toward the houses. We stumble, and I turn, taking the brunt of the fall against my shoulder. Denver winces but keeps her arm outstretched, firing again at the car.
“Let them do that,” I say over the commotion. “We need to get to Holly.”
Denver nods and scrambles to her feet, keeping in a low crouch as more shots are fired. She runs toward the house, throwing the door open, and a woman screams. The owner is crouched in a corner with Holly.
I let out a terrified exhale as Holly pulls herself free from the stranger and sobs as she runs to me. I sweep her into my arms and she cries into my neck.
“You left me!” she cries. “Why did you leave me!”
“I’m sorry, baby.” I hold onto her. She’s never felt so small, so vulnerable. “I’m so sorry.”
I never should have let tonight happen. I knew in my gut it was the wrong thing to do. I shake my head and hold her closer, smelling her strawberry shampoo, feeling her tiny body trembling in my arms.
I never should have left her.
Footsteps approach and Denver whirls, but Charlie appears at the door. “It’s clear, but we need to go, now.”
I nod and hold my hand out. Denver takes it, holding onto me as tightly as Holly does.
There’s too much commotion to get the cars.
We’d never get anywhere fast. So, with Holly in my arms and Denver’s hand in mine, we walk quickly through the busy streets.
Lewis is close, Charlie is giving orders to the men around us, and we leave the mess behind and go home.
Holly is tearful as I pull the covers up to her chin.
This was what I wanted to prevent, but the only way I can do that is by keeping her inside forever.
Locking her up isn’t the best thing to do, I know that, but I also can’t stand how she looks right now.
Her panda face paint is washed away, but her eyes are red rimmed, her blue irises shining as she stares up at me.
“Talk to me, baby,” I say. “What are you thinking about?”
Her bottom lip trembles, her chin dimpling. “It was loud.”
She doesn’t understand the noise, or what happened, and I can’t explain it to her without scaring her further. “I know. But it’s quiet now.”
“Forever?”
No. Not forever. She’ll always be a target because she’s a Harland, and the older she gets, the more she’ll want her freedom. Like Denver said, she fought against her security, and Holly will do the same.
I didn’t grow up like this. I can’t pass on knowledge or kind words my parents said to me, because I was sixteen the first time someone shot at me, and I’d shot first. I was terrified but old enough to know what a bullet meant.
Holly’s eyes shift behind me. “Hi Denver.”
I look over my shoulder at Denver standing in the doorway.
She still somehow looks totally put together—hair resting over one shoulder, clothes not dotted with blood like mine had been.
The only sign that she went through anything tonight is what I see in her eyes, something I saw in my own expression when I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror—fear for Holly.
She approaches and sits on Holly’s other side, leaning on her hand. The memory of that hand in mine, the way she clung to me while appearing to keep it together in front of everyone else, might stay with me forever.
“Tonight was busy, wasn’t it?” Denver asks. Holly nods. “I’ve had busy nights too. It’s scary. Makes your ears hurt.”
“Yeah,” Holly says.
Denver shifts closer. “You know what’s good, though? It isn’t busy in here.” She points around the room. “You have everything you like. Name some things you love most about here.”
Holly glances around. “My desk.”
“It’s a great desk,” Denver says.
“My unicorn.” She squeezes her unicorn plush in her arms.
Denver smiles. I look between them both and say nothing.
“One more thing,” Denver says, adjusting the covers.
Holly smiles. “Uncle Colt.”
“Great answers,” Denver says, smiling at me before returning her attention to Holly. “So, when things are busy sometimes, you remember those three things. And it’s quieter. And if you ever think about the busyness, you talk to your daddy, or Uncle Colt, or Nanny Helena. Anyone you want. Okay?”
Holly nods.
“Do you want us to stay?” I ask, but she shakes her head. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Do you want your stories on?” She nods and nestles into the pillow, and I turn on her speaker.
Once we’ve left the room and Holly’s door is closed, I pull Denver into a hug.
She freezes for a moment, but I don’t care about the barriers, or what we should or shouldn’t do.
I’m so relieved she knew what to say, how to navigate this mess, because I was lost. Denver wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me back, and I hold onto her for probably too long, but I don’t want to let go.
In the quiet of my family home, a Harland hugs a Luxe, but our names are forgotten. We’re just Colt and Denver, and I need that.
“Thank you,” I say.
She exhales deeply and holds me tighter. “Anytime.”
When I finally release her, we remain in place. “How did you know what to say?”
“Someone shot at my ninth birthday party,” she says.
“No one was hurt, and honestly, most of it is just darkness when I try to remember. But my mom and dad sat with me that night, and my mom told me to name things I loved. She called it busyness too. I guess calling it what it really was wouldn’t have been smart.
” She forces a smile and takes a breath. “She’ll be okay.”
I shake my head. “I should have canceled.”
“It doesn’t help,” she says quietly, and I meet her eye.
“My tenth birthday was fine. Eleventh, too. My twelfth, my dad disappeared for three days and came back with bruises. Someone had taken him and three other men from a supermarket at gunpoint while he was buying me a birthday cake. There’s no telling when this world will hit us or who it will hit.
But stopping her from living doesn’t stop it from happening. ”
The lamp on the side table warms one side of Denver’s face in a soft, orange glow, and she cups my cheek. “You’re doing the best you can.”
“I could do better.”
“Shoulda woulda coulda.” She smiles. “Expect the best, prepare for the worst. And numb it with the free candy we have downstairs.”
Somehow, I laugh. The tension isn’t gone, but it’s eased, by Denver Luxe of all people.
She takes my hand and leads me downstairs. Charlie, Lewis, and Taf are sitting at the dining table. Charlie has a dozen empty candy wrappers in front of him.
Denver releases my hand and stands by Lewis’s chair, resting her arm over his shoulder.
I rub my face. “Who?”
“Spider,” Taf says.
A name I should have expected. It was only a matter of time before he showed up or sent men to exact revenge for the son he probably now knows is dead. The question is—was he here for Denver or me?
“Anyone alive?” I ask.
Charlie nods. “One guy. Alistair took him to one of the bars.”
“Then we hurt him,” Denver says, leaning her hip against Lewis’s chair. “And we find out where Spider is.”
I watch her. “You’re coming?”
“He either tried to kill me or almost killed her.” She points at the ceiling, where Holly sleeps above us. “I’m hurting someone.”