Chapter 32
A month had passed since Jim’s release from the hospital, and the quiet routines of the farm felt like a lifetime ago. Detroit was a different beast entirely—gray, loud, and hostile.
Moose stood near the door of their hotel room, watching Elena.
She sat by the window, staring out at the skyline, but he knew she wasn’t seeing the city lights.
She was seeing the past she’d fought so hard to outrun.
The last few days at the prosecutor’s office had been grueling—endless legal briefs, witness prep, and strategy meetings that left her drained.
But it was the threats that kept Moose on edge.
The emails from the Latin Counts were slipping through the filters—vague, dark promises of violence that shattered the silence of the night.
He could see the tension in the set of her shoulders, the way her posture remained stiff even when she was sitting still. She looked brittle, as if one sudden noise would break her.
Moose glanced toward the hallway door. He checked the locks again out of habit, though he knew the perimeter was secure.
Down the hall, the rest of the Blue Ridge team occupied two rooms. It was strange to have an entourage, but necessary.
Hank’s warning echoed in his mind: You won’t face this fight alone.
Their presence was a silent reassurance, quiet sentinels ready to move if the threats escalated.
He turned back to Elena. Tonight, he was determined to steal her away from the darkness—not forever, but for a few hours.
He had already prepped the bathroom. The tub was filled, the steam carrying the scent of lavender and eucalyptus into the main room, warring with the smell of city exhaust. He’d lit candles, their soft flickering casting dancing shadows against the tile.
Dinner was ordered—simple comfort food, nothing complicated.
Moose walked toward her, his movements silent—the stealth of a man trained to move without being heard. He stopped beside her chair. Her gaze was distant, lost somewhere between fatigue and guarded hope.
“Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. He extended his hand. “Let me help you relax.”
For a heartbeat, she hesitated. Then, she looked up, her eyes dark with exhaustion, and slipped her fingers into his. He pulled her up gently, leading her away from the window, away from the kill zone of the city, and toward the warmth of the bathroom.
Inside, the candlelight spilled across the floor, steam curling softly at the edges of the room.
He turned her around, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
Slowly, deliberately, he began to free her from the dress—his fingers brushing lightly over her shoulders.
He felt her breath hitch, a soft sound that held no resistance.
He eased the heavy fabric down, revealing skin that looked golden in the candlelight.
Step by step, he continued—unfastening buttons, sliding sleeves off her delicate arms. His touch was tender but deliberate, a silent communication. I’ve got you. You’re safe.
His fingers traced over her shoulders again, and he felt a gentle shiver run through her. She stood still, trusting him. The warmth of the room seemed to close around them like a protective cloak, and for the first time in days, he felt the tension in her body begin to ebb.
Moose searched her eyes in the reflection, looking for the fierce prosecutor the world knew, but finding only Elena—real, delicate, and unyielding.
Her gaze softened. Slowly, she turned to face him, her fingers reaching out to brush gently across his hand. A shy smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
“Join me?” she whispered. “There’s room for two in this huge tub.”
A warmth bloomed in his chest at the invitation. He nodded, stepping closer. “You don’t have to ask twice.”
He peeled off his shirt, his movements unhurried. He wanted this to be slow. He wanted to counter the chaos outside with absolute calm. He shrugged off his jacket and unbuckled his belt, his eyes never leaving hers.
He followed her into the water. The tub was deep, the heat wrapping around them instantly. Elena leaned back against his chest, closing her eyes. Moose wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head, his body forming a barrier between her and the world.
The room fell into a thick, comfortable silence, broken only by the soft ripple of water and their steady breaths. Moose ran his hands down her arms, the soap slick against her skin. He wasn't just washing her; he was grounding her.
When her eyes met his again, they were brighter. Every faint touch, every shared glance closed the gap between them. The tension in the room shifted from stress to something simmering and slow—a dance of connection beneath the surface.
Moose didn’t rush. He savored the moment, knowing this fragile peace was rare. For now, here in the steam and the candlelight, they were untouchable.
But as the water eventually began to cool, the chill nudged him to move. He reached for the soft, fluffy towel, lifting it between them. He stood first, helping Elena from the tub, steadying her as she rose. His grip was firm, anchoring her.
Wrapping the towel around her, he felt the damp warmth seep into his own skin. Without hesitation, Moose lifted her into his arms. She felt impossibly light against him, her heartbeat quickening against his chest.
He carried her to the king-sized bed, his steps reverent. He laid her down gently on the crisp, cool sheets, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.
He lay down beside her, pulling her close. The towel fell away, and she melted against him. Side by side, their limbs tangled, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the fading heat of the bath.
For a time, the threats, the court case, even the untouched dinner faded into nothingness.
Moose laced his fingers through hers beneath the low glow of the lamps.
As their breathing synced, slowing into a shared rhythm, Moose sensed a refuge blossoming between them—a fragile sanctuary against the relentless storm waiting just beyond the bedroom walls.