Chapter 37
Colt
Ipull the car over a street away from the address JJ sent to me. He texted Alistair too and said he’d have called sooner if he’d known what was happening, but even now, he isn’t privy to everything Ranger does.
JJ has been my man inside the Luxe household since last year. He’s the only reason Wilder managed to get out the night he ambushed Ranger at home. After the wedding, I told JJ he could come back, but he insisted on staying undercover. Now, I’m glad he did.
The snow continues falling as I open the trunk and find the tire iron.
The metal bar is cold in my palm, weighty, too, and far quieter than the gun tucked into my coat.
I need my approach to be as quiet as possible for as long as possible.
I don’t have numbers on my side because I left before Alistair could send any men with me, but I have stealth.
I don’t bother closing the trunk before striding toward my destination.
To the home where Ranger Luxe grew up.
I spot the first of Ranger’s men standing watch on the street. His back is to me, and he looks like he’s blowing into his hands, his breath fogging around him. The snow quietens my footsteps as I quickly close the space between us.
I swing the bar into his head, metal thudding into skull. He stumbles, and I stab the end into his throat. He hits the ground, clutching his neck, his windpipe likely crushed, and I bring the weapon down into his skull. Again. And again.
Thud.
Thud.
Crack.
Blood spills across fresh snow.
I wrench the bar free from his head and keep going.
A man rounds the corner, taking his last breath as he reaches for a weapon he’ll never touch again. I swing, and the curved end of the bar slams into his temple, blood spurting across him and me. He slumps to the ground.
A gun is fired, a bullet slamming into my shoulder, and my back meets the wall of the house behind me. Hot pain radiates through my shoulder and chest, blood soaks my shirt, and now Ranger knows I’m here.
I take out my gun, firing twice at the man advancing on me. The sound of him hitting the ground is drowned out by my voice.
“Denver!” I bellow, the shout echoing down the street. I straighten off the wall, ignore the pain, and move forward.
Another bullet thuds into me.
It stuns me, stopping me in place, but not for long.
I shoot. I keep moving.
I can’t fucking stop.
Headlights fill the street, but I ignore them. I can only pray they’re on my side, because I don’t know where the second bullet landed, but the pain is bursting through the adrenaline.
“Denver!” I shout. Ranger’s childhood home is directly in front of me. A window smashes, orange flickering beyond the panes and eventually bursting through the frames. Flames lick the brick, smoke billowing into the sky. “No.” The word is closer to a breath, and I break out into a run.
Denver screams. She keeps screaming.
Screaming.
Screaming.
I throw my shoulder into the door, but it stays firm. I keep shouting her name as more windows smash, the glass raining down on me. My shoulder meets the wood again. And again. It finally gives way, banging into the wall behind it.
Smoke crawls down the stairs, and I take them three at a time. Ranger is standing in a doorway, blocking the way, his back to me, and beyond him are flames. I seize his shoulder and pull him into the hall, my knuckles meeting his jaw in a short, sharp snap.
He stumbles back, but not for long. He runs at me, his shoulder meeting my chest as he barrels into me.
We fall into the bathroom, my back slamming into the sink of the small space.
My body is a symphony of pain, but I fight through it, gripping Ranger’s head and slamming his face into the mirror to my right, glass spitting across the floor.
Denver appears behind him, a bundle in her arms, her face dirtied with smoke and sweat.
“Go!” I shout, and she gives me a terrified glance before running down the stairs.
As Ranger recovers, I bring my forehead into his nose, blood bursting across his face as I shove him back into the hall.
He hits the floor, and the heat from the room beside me is spreading, flames climbing up the walls and ceiling.
“She isn’t yours!” Ranger bellows, shielding his face against the heat.
“She isn’t anyone’s!” The fire roars, sweat pouring down my face and back, blood weeping from the bullets in my shoulder. My head swims, my vision blurs, the thick smoke invading my lungs. “You don’t own her!”
“And neither will you.” He stands, but he doesn’t run at me. He goes to the window at the far end.
My eyes widen. “Ranger, no!”
His elbow meets glass, and air seeps into the room.
The fire screams and rushes for the oxygen, engulfing us both.
I cover my face and stumble back, losing my footing on the stairs.
The world tumbles and I hit the ground over and over until finally meeting the bottom.
An inferno whirls above me, the wallpaper curling as the fire rushes down the stairs toward me.
But I force myself to my feet, because the flames aren’t the only thing barreling down those stairs.
Ranger’s fist meets my jaw and I slam into the wall, barely registering the small pain against so many other agonies wreaking havoc in my body.
He seizes my arm and throws me against the other wall, throwing another punch my way.
He throws another punch, but his knuckles meet my palm in an angry crack, and I grip and twist.
With my other hand, I jab his throat, and his eyes widen as he tries to take in air. Ranger Luxe drops to a knee, suffocating on smoke, and I stand above him, heaving it in as if the dark air gives me life. “You think you’re a king. You think you rule. You fucking don’t.”
Somehow, he breathes, “I’ll kill you if you take her from me. I’ll fucking kill you.”
The fire continues to roar, my skin close to blistering, and I seize his hair and bring his face close to mine. “You can’t kill a ghost.”
I hit him. His head snaps back.
I hit him again.
And again. Blood spurts across his face as he falls to the bottom of the stairs in a heap.
My lungs burn. My vision blurs.
Someone is calling my name.
She’s calling my name.
My knees meet the floor.
“Colt,” she cries. “Colt, get up!”
Denver drags me to my feet, and we stumble outside and into the cold air, falling into the snow. The air is fresh, but I still cough and splutter as I pull it in, my head spinning. Denver cups my cheeks as she kneels by me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, and I stare at her soot-covered face. “Colt, say something.”
I nod. Pain radiates through me as I push myself up. Sirens scream as the house burns, and Finn kneels in front of me, handing something to Denver as the flames glow behind him.
“Colt,” Finn says, and my gaze shifts lazily to him. “Can you stand?”
The world slows. Blue lights throb against the buildings. Flames lick at the darkened sky, a dance of orange against inky black, and Denver’s fingers lace through mine. I look at her, my movements delayed, my body too light. She’s holding a toddler, his pink, tear-stained face against her chest.
Theo. Ranger took him. He took them both and was willing to let them die.
And now …
“Can you stand?” Finn repeats, and somehow, I nod.
He helps me up, and Denver presses herself into my side. My breath feels clunky, but at least it exists, so I’ll take that as a fucking win.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, and she nods tearfully up at me. I have her. She’s in my arms. She’s alive. I kiss her head. “We’re okay.”
My knees dip, and Finn wraps an arm around my waist. He eyes the blood on my T-shirt and shifts the collar to look at the wound. “Fucking Christ, Colt. Were you shot?”
“Little bit,” I say.
Denver hits my good arm. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Fucking gunshot victim here. Don’t hit me,” I say, and she glares at me as Finn guides me to the ambulance.
On a clean, crisp gurney, two bullet wounds are patched up. Denver lies beside me, Theo on her chest, an oxygen mask on his tiny face.
We don’t speak. She doesn’t cry, she doesn’t shake, she just stares out of the back of the vehicle, my arm around both of them. The fire department tackles the flames, and when Denver finally speaks, I must have fallen asleep, because I have to open my eyes again.
“I should talk to the police,” she says. “Will you watch him?”
I nod and take Theo from her. He doesn’t stir, his small lips parted as he sleeps deeply.
“His mom is on the way,” Denver says. She runs her fingers through his hair, biting her lip before forcing a smile. “I’ll be back, okay?” She kisses me, and I cup the back of her head, holding her lips to mine. A tear falls down my cheek, but I keep kissing her, keep holding her.
Because I almost lost her. Almost lost everything.
My voice breaks. “I love you.”
“I love you.” She rushes out the words as if she’s afraid she might never have been able to say them. “I love you so much.”
As she climbs out of the back of the ambulance, I rest Theo on my chest, running my hand down his back. I feel his tiny heartbeat against mine, and I kiss his head.
“She loves you,” I say. “I promise she’d keep you if she could.”
I hope I can tell him that again someday. I hope he shows up at our door and Denver gets the chance to explain that if it had been her choice, Theo never would have left her side.
I close my eyes, the pain relief drifting across my brain in waves. I feel lighter. More hopeful than I should.
My eyes refuse to stay open, but I try anyway. People are darting across the street, instructions are shouted to tame the fire, and police are telling neighbors to stay back.
My eyes flutter closed.
When they open again, he’s there. A dark figure, tall and memorable.
“She’ll never be yours,” he says. His outline shimmers and fades as he looks behind him, then back at me. “Never.”
I hold onto Theo as Ranger walks away and wonder if I dreamed him.
I wonder if he died in a blaze of glory.
It’s my last thought before darkness embraces me.