Chapter 45
45
brAIDEN
I can’t take my eyes off Samantha. She’s my bridge to the future. She’s the way I leave behind the butchered animal on the table and come back to the world of men.
But she has to know the truth. She has to understand, or anything else between us will be built on lies.
I show her my hands—still flushed from my scrubbing. My fingers spread wide, not a hint of tremor. “I won’t apologize for this,” I say. “You’ve seen who I am. What I’ll do. You have to know that.”
“I see.” Her chin trembles a little as she says it but her eyes meet mine. “I know.” And then she takes a deep breath. “Braiden—” But she cuts herself off. “Please. Can we talk somewhere else?”
I’ve made my point, so there’s no reason to stay in this stinking hellhole. I gesture for her to leave first, but I take time to lock the door behind us. The last thing I need tonight is Aiofe stumbling on her uncle’s mangled body .
Samantha begins to relax the instant the door is closed. Her shoulders come down from around her ears. The lines on her forehead ease, the ones that look like she’s fighting a migraine.
I want her in my bed.
But I take her to my office.
From the windows, I can see two firetrucks left on a driveway pocked with puddles. A few men in turnout gear explore what’s left of the garage—blackened timbers and stone tumbled around the carcasses of cars. More stand around, drinking from foam cups. Fairfax is talking to someone who seems to be in charge.
Of course Fairfax has the situation under control. He always does. Nevertheless, I should get out there.
But Samantha starts again, matching her tone precisely to the one she used in the surgery. “I had to come here, Braiden. I hired an investigator, and he made his report tonight. That’s how I knew Madden was working with Russo. I had to let you know, even though… Even with… Even after we…”
Jesus Christ. She thinks I’m going to throw her out. She thinks I don’t want her here.
“Stop,” I say.
She’s still explaining. “You blocked my number?—”
“Stop!”
“I looked online, using databases. I went through freeport records?—”
“ Stop. ”
I use my Captain’s voice. The look of relief that dawns on her face is something a thousand painters could try to capture for a thousand years and never come close.
She needs that sort of command. She needs that type of control. But more than anything, she needs to know exactly what I thought when I looked up from the map that’s still sprawled across my desk—that moment when I saw her standing in the doorway.
“You came home,” I say. “I never should have let you go, not like that, not in anger. And after you left, I should have chased after you. Should have followed you to Delaware, to the freeport, whatever it took.”
“I wouldn’t have let you past the door,” she says.
“You wouldn’t have had a choice, piscín .”
She catches her breath at that. Her mouth softens at the pet name, but she won’t give up control. Not yet. “You scared me,” she said. “Bringing that gun to the pool house.”
“You terrified me,” I admit. “The fact that you went to Ingram. That I couldn’t ignore what he ordered.”
“The things I said… They weren’t fair. I knew you could protect me. You already had, at the freeport. Against the man Madden sent.”
I hold her gaze. “You knew exactly where to put your knife.” I know she’ll flinch. I know she’ll look over her shoulder and down the hallway. I know she’ll think of Madden dying under a knife.
But I say it because she can never forget who I am. She has to remember what I can do, what I will do to anyone who crosses me. And she has to know I’d never harm her like that, never hurt her in any way she doesn’t beg for first.
I speak because she isn’t ready to. “The only reason we could fight like that is because we know each other so well. We know the words to say. The wounds to open. You know my secrets and you know my shame, the same as I know yours.”
She nods, because she recognizes truth. I can barely hear her when she whispers. “Promise. Promise you’ll never do that again.”
I take my time, because she has to know I mean it. I look directly in her eyes. I swallow before I open my lips. And then I say, “I promise.”
“I won’t either,” she says. And now her voice is stronger. “I swear.”
I need to touch her then, need to feel her body against my still-bare chest. My arms fold around her, and I spread one hand across the back of her head. I measure the moment she accepts that she’s home again. That she’s mine.
She’s thinner than she should be. It’s only been one week, but the hard wings of her shoulder blades tell me she’s skipped meals. She’s pale, too, her face washed out by the white silk of her top, by the harsh black of her suit.
If I kiss her, I’ll never get out of this office. And my men still need me. It takes all my strength to step away. “I can’t,” I say. “Not yet.”
She nods, because she understands. Samantha always understands.
“I have to take care of things downstairs. Fairfax shouldn’t have to deal with the firefighters on his own. And I need to call off O’Hara’s search for Madden.”
She winces a little at my dead brother’s name. This time, I pretend I don’t see her discomfort. Instead, I say, “And you need to eat something.”
“I don’t?—”
She stops when I raise both eyebrows.
But then she tries again. She glances toward the door, toward the hall, toward the locked infirmary. “I can’t?—”
“You will.”
God help me, I want to feed her myself. I want to sit her on my lap and bring ripe strawberries to her lips. I want to watch her chew. I want to see her swallow.
A heavy engine revs outside, one of the firetrucks moving. Men shout to each other, the steady call of experts, wrapping up a job. I need to go.
“ Piscín ,” I say, letting one hand tangle in her hair.
She turns her face and rests her cheek against my palm. “I’ll eat,” she says. And then she straightens. Her spine grows stiff. She’s the one who finds the strength to step away. Eyeing me steadily, she says, “I’ll be here when you get back. Go.”
So I do.