Chapter 24
chapter twenty-four
Kai
Denali walks away from the car without a glance back. And I realize that I didn't bother to tell her how I felt tonight.
I can make a thousand and one excuses for why I didn't—it didn't feel right, it was too busy of a night, she didn't seem interested—but the truth of the matter is I'm scared.
Scared she'll say no. That she'll say there's nothing there.
That she's not interested, or that she doesn't want to risk her job.
They're all valid excuses, but they all ring hollow.
I have to tell her. I have to be honest.
Roger meets my gaze in the rear view mirror, and I see the look in his eyes. It's different from the one he usually gives me. "What?" I'm defensive, I know, but I can't help it. "If you have something to say, say it."
He looks up at the apartment building, where Denali disappeared to just moments ago. "Aren't you going to go after her?"
"Go after her for what?" I play stupid, because I'm hoping I'm not so transparent that even my driver has seen through my act.
"Isn't that what you do when you're in love with someone? You tell them?"
He makes a good point. "How can you tell?"
His shrug is almost comical. "I've been there before. Seen too many idiots in love who miss the boat because they're too busy or too scared to make the next step happen. And I kinda like you, and I really like Miss Denali. So maybe don't be another one of those fools, Mr. Kai."
He has a point. "Wait here for me?"
Roger's lips curl in a smile, and I know I've made the right choice. "Where else am I going to go, boss?"
I'm out of the car in a flash, taking the stairs two at a time. My hands are shaking, my heart races in my chest as I think of what the hell I'll tell her.
Denali, I'm in love with you, and I want you so bad it hurts sometimes—
Too much too soon. I've got to be more careful about this.
Kara, you're amazing, and I'd be blind if I didn't see it—
No. That's not it either. There's got to be some way to explain to her what exactly I'm feeling—
I draw up short on her floor, though. Light spills out of one of the apartments, and it only takes me a second of thought processing to realize it's hers. The door is wide open—
—something's wrong.
I walk slowly to her door, even though every molecule in my body screams for me to run to her side.
I don't know what's going on in there, or if maybe she's just standing on the other side, preparing to take some trash out or something.
But when I reach the door and look inside, my blood runs cold, nearly stopping my heart.
Her apartment looks like a bomb went off.
Things are tossed everywhere, like one of those mob movies where they come in looking for some stolen drugs or something.
Her things are strewn about with no care to anything, and there's dirt all over the carpet.
Plants overturned. Plates broken all over the floor. And no sign of Denali anywhere.
It's stupid, because what am I? Just some idol with no self-defense or combat training, a short man with money that he lets do all the talking for him when he needs something done.
I could call the police, but I don't. I could call for Anton to come up, but I don't do that either. No, instead, I'm slinking through the apartment myself, like some sort of amateur detective, hoping to find Denali around the next corner.
I've never been inside her apartment, but it's tiny, so there's not much space to cover.
I reach the final room and there she stands.
Her hands are at her sides, fisted in the fabric of her dress as she stands there in the center of her room and shakes.
Her shoulders are tense, and I reach for one without thinking, the desire to comfort her overwhelming.
"Denali—"
The scream that leaves her is regretful. As is the fact that she swings on me, because I was too stupid to realize I shouldn't sneak up on a frightened woman. By some miracle, she doesn't connect because I dodge backward in time.
"Denali, wait!" In her hasty swing, she's offset herself, and falls right into my arms. "Denali!"
Those soulful eyes look up at me, and it's like seeing a whole new woman. She's pale, too pale, and the brokenness in her gaze twists my insides. I've never before been this far into someone, especially not a woman, but Denali makes me different.
Women trust me, it's a natural part of who I am and what I represent: strength, security, confidence. But beneath all that is a man who worries about whether or not he'll ever be enough. Who isn't sure where his future will take him, or how long he'll be able to stay on top of the world.
But when I look at Denali, and she looks at me, I don't hear those fears anymore. No, for some reason, what she sees in me is everything I can't see in myself. She trusts me, she's confident that I know what I'm doing. That I can handle it, whatever the it is.
Like now.
Her lips slam together, silencing the scream she let out, and a whimper takes its place. "Kai?" She's cold, almost like she's in shock, and I watch in real time as she processes what's going on, who I am, why I'm here. Or, maybe she doesn't ask herself the whys of it.
"Are you okay? Are they still here? What happened?" I've got so many questions, so many things that I need to know, but the most important one is her. "You're not hurt, are you?"
"Y-yeah, I'm okay," she says, but her voice says she's only okay physically. Mentally, she's a mess. I can see it in the way her eyes don't settle, how they still skim the room, lingering on the bed, and the message I just now realize is written in the sheets.
You're mine. You'll always be mine. And I always get what I want.
"Denali," I whisper, hesitant to ask, yet knowing it's important, "who did this?"
She knows. A message that personal, that specific, she has to know who's after her.
"Not here," she mutters, her hands clutching at my shirt, wrinkling the fine material. I couldn't care less, though. Not with Denali here in my arms, panic rising in her throat, tainting her voice. "I—it was—it was Theo."
Theo. A man's name. "An ex?"
"Something like that." She won't look away from the bed. "Kai—"
"We need to call the police." I start to pull her out of the room, and then realize the more we move, the more we damage the integrity of the crime scene. "And you can't stay here—"
She fights me, stiffening in my grip, so I lift her in my arms and carry her bodily from the room, forcing her to leave that menacing scene behind.
She can't stand in there and ruminate on it forever.
It'll tear her up inside. Once we're clear of the bedroom, and standing beyond the majority of the mess, in the kitchen foyer, I set her down, pulling my phone out almost immediately.
Her hand falls on mine, stopping me in my tracks. I'm not sure why she wants me to wait, but I look at her, hoping for an explanation.
"Don't call them," she pleads, her eyes wide. "You don't understand what he's capable of—"
"Clearly he's capable of a whole lot," I say dryly, gesturing at the rooms we can see, and those beyond. "Has this been going on for awhile?"
She ducks her head, and I realize she's been hiding more from me than I thought. "Remember those horrible lillies?"
The ones that I commented were funeral flowers, not gifts for a woman. "Yes."
That was him?
"We need to call them, Denali. The cops can handle this—"
She takes my phone from me and stuffs it down the front of her dress. "No. He knows cops. He'll make it go away, just like he did last time. He always makes it disappear—"
"You can't stay here." I don't know that she'd try, I just need her to know I won't allow it.
Not because she's in danger, not because clearly someone has been doing this for a long while, not because there's too much of a mess to clean up to make this place habitable right now.
But because I can't imagine not having her near me right now.
I won't let her out of my sight. If I walked away now, let her stay on her own, I'd never forgive myself.
I need to know she's okay. And the easiest way to do that is to keep her with me.
"Where the hell else am I gonna go, Kai?" Her hair has started to fall from her tight bun in little wisps, but instead of framing her face sweetly, they're clinging to the side of her throat in the sweat from her panic and fear. "He'll only follow me."
"Pack a bag, and be quick," I say calmly, like there's no room for argument. "You'll stay with me."
"No." The word is said with all the determination of a woman who doesn't plan to argue the topic. "I am not leading him to your home next."
"I'm not giving you a choice, Denali. You're coming with me. My place has a security team, locks, and a whole ass alarm system. And we've got Anton and Roger."
She looks to the kitchen, where a lovely cat licks his paw as he sits on the counter and watches us. "Taco—"
Without a second thought, I walk over, pick the cat up, and stick him in my coat, buttoning it up around him. "I've got him. Now let's go." After a second of hesitation, I eye her tits and sigh. "And give me my damn phone back. I don't want to have to go fishing for it."
It takes a minute, but the realization that I'm not arguing, and she's not going to win this one must wash over here and settle into that thick skull of hers, because she frowns, but she doesn't argue further.
She reaches down the front of her top and hands it over, and I'm almost disappointed that I didn't have my hand forced—so to speak—into getting it myself.
Now's not the time for sexy games with my assistant.
Later, though . . .
The antsy cat in my jacket is not pleased with where he's at, but he's not arguing too much.
In fact, the more I pet him, the more content he becomes with his current situation.
"Your mama is one stubborn woman," I tell him, already planning to have Anton make the phone call to the authorities.
I don't care if the asshole who did this has a million dollars and a cop in every town on his bankroll.
He's going to pay for this, and the first step is a paper trail.
"I've gotta grab his food and water bowl out from beneath the sink. And his food—there's a bag there. I have a carrier for him in the hall closet, and—"
"Denali," I say with a huff, taking her purse from her grip with a soft smile to set her at ease, "I've got it. He's fine. Don't worry about the little things. Just get your ass in gear and get out of here."
She grabs her purse and doesn't argue further, simply takes a hesitant step toward the door. "Okay," she whispers, her words shaky. "Okay, I'll go."
She's silent all the way to my house. I know she hears the call I tell Anton to make. She doesn't say anything about it, though. And when he asks her for her key, so he can let the police into her place later, she hands it wordlessly over.
I'm almost afraid that she's going into shock.
"Hey," I tell her once the door closes and we're alone, "why don't you go slip out of that and into something comfortable?"
Her blank stare is a little comical, all things considered. "I didn't pack anything to wear, Kai. You were too worried about getting me out of there."
It's no bother. "You know where my dresser is. Go find something to wear. Leave the dress on the settee in my closet, and I'll take care of it."
Though there's a little fight in her eyes, she still nods and makes her way to my room, the one place I've wanted to see her back in again since the night she rescued me from bring drugged. But I didn't want it like this. I wanted her to come willingly. I wanted her eager.
Now, she's just scared, and that, I can't do anything about. But damn, do I want to.
"Well, Taco," I say to my chest, where the cat is contentedly purring like he's on a vibrate setting, "why don't we go find you some dinner?"
Her cat isn't sure what to make of the new house he's found himself in, but he follows me around in the kitchen while I rustle him up something to eat.
The little orange and calico shit is busy meowing up a storm any time I pull something from the fridge or cabinet that he thinks he'll like, so I set aside a pile for him based on what I assume are his inputs, wondering the whole time if cats can really talk, and we just can't understand them yet, or if he's capable of having favorites, or knowing them by sight alone.
I know cats are smart, but are they that smart?
I hook him up with a little glass dish or two of water and some premium duck liver paté I was hoping to spread out on wheat crackers and enjoy with high-end cheese later this week, and then I sit on the couch and wait, wondering how long I should give Denali before I start to worry.
The answer eludes me.