6. Knight
Chapter Six
KNIGHT
She must have figured out what I was. It was inevitable. Written on the wall.
I slammed my fist against the specially reinforced punching bag in my gym, sending it swinging, then again, and again, and again until my hands were numb, however hard my heart was pounding.
She’d moved out of my hotel, staying at the Death-Hammer compound like that was suitable for a mama bird. She’d just walked out, and that was it. No demands, no anger, nothing but emptiness, leaving me to spiral alone in the abyss of misery.
“The tailor’s here,” Charles said, looking abominably cheerful, like the world hadn’t crashed and burned around me.
I looked at the tailor, but it wasn’t my usual. He looked foreign and annoying. “I didn’t ask for a tailor.”
The tailor sneered back at me, at my sweaty body, eyes widening in horror at the breadth of my chest.
Charles gave me a sharp look. “Of course you did. This is André from Paris. He came all this way when he had an opening. You specifically requested him a few years ago.”
I blinked at him. That was so long ago.
“Monsieur is an animal,” André said, sneering at me again. He wasn’t old enough to be a really good tailor, but he was trendy, creative, and interesting. And he’d come all this way.
“Fine. You can take my measurements.”
André pointed one finger at me. “Not until you’ve bathed. And perfumed, mon Dieu! Alors, do you think I came all this way to muck with the filthy animals?”
For a second, I really wanted to punch his pointed, smirkish face, but instead I headed for the showers. Jerome had taken a break to watch that whole exchange, suspicion making an impression on the usual glower.
While I stood there, being measured, Charles kept interrupting me to have me sign things, almost like I hadn’t been available for anything other than smashing my fists against bags.
So much business. I really had neglected everything, living in my gym so I didn’t have to walk around my empty apartment and miss Trixie.
It was her place, not mine, and without her, what was there?
I never should have gotten so close. I knew it was going to end, and now… it was death without dying.
Charles shoved a bite of cake into my mouth.
“Whaftha ghoama?” I mumbled.
Charles gave me a slight smile. “The cook you bothered to bring out here needs your approval for the new dessert list. What do you think? Too creamy? Not enough spice?”
I swallowed and licked my lips, then stopped.
It tasted like Trix’s cannolis. My heart cracked open and sprinkled its shards all over the floor beneath the tailor’s and my secretary’s shoes.
That Frenchman’s shoes weren’t as polished as you’d think.
They looked comfortable, too. Also, he was standing exactly where Trixie had been, with her adorable toes on my gym floor.
I sniffed and fought back the tears in my eyes. “It’s good.”
“What about this one?” Charles shoved another bite in my face.
I chewed before nodding. “It’s fine.” Tasted like chocolate minty misery.
“And this?”
And so I was standing there, poked by the tailor, tortured by my secretary, like the Tin Man, without a heart. Without a soul.
Somehow the next few days passed in anguished misery.
Trixie still in the compound. Charles keeping me busy with business.
I needed to do something with Pixel. I needed to introduce him to the other men who were more stable than I was.
Put him to work doing something useful. Test him to see where his talents were.
But I had to punch every bag I owned until it exploded.
“You know,” Pixel said, when I was between punches. “The way Jezabel searched the place, it seemed like she was looking for something. Something small. She took her time to search after knocking people out. Did you notice anything missing?”
I stared at him dully while blood rushed to my brain and the world tilted. He leapt forward to help me sit down.
“You should eat something,” he said, worry in his eyes.
“Yeah,” I agreed as I leaned against the wall, looking up at the punching bag, the room swirling around me in abject misery.
He punched my shoulder, bringing his face into focus. He bristled with anger. Also metal spikes. “So we go and get it back!”
“What?”
“Whatever she stole! Jezabel’s going to be at the Death-Hammer party, and you’re going to wear something good when you crash it, and then Trixie will be there and she’ll see you and think you look hot.
Also, that you aren’t a mess. And then, while Jezabel is distracted by your confrontation, I break into her house and get back what she stole. ”
I blinked at him. The intel Jackson had gotten for me.
She must have swiped it out of my jacket while I’d been unconscious after she stole Trixie.
Pixel’s plan was idiotic. Absolute nonsense, but on the other hand, I’d die to see Trixie again.
I needed to apologize to her. Maybe explain.
Maybe beg. The intel would be good, too.
But mostly I needed to soak in my heart and make sure she was okay.
Was she upset with me enough that it affected her health?
Was she staying hydrated? Was she getting enough to eat?
“Okay,” I said while Pixel gave me the maddest grin I’d ever seen. It was probably the face spikes. And the mohawk.
“You won’t regret this, boss.”
I stood in the doorway of the chopper, silent mode, wearing the new tuxedo that didn’t give me the movement I needed for jumping out.
It didn’t look like much of a party, although there was a white service tent barely visible in the dark.
Devil’s peak. Trixie had been down below driving Violet the first time she’d seen me jump out of a helicopter.
She’d like how I’d looked then. And she liked me in suits.
But where was she? There were some figures down there near the tent, but it was so dark.
I pulled on my night-vision goggles and got to see the red blurs that were only shadows. The brightest blur was up near the peak.
“Trixie’s up there,” Pixel said. “She’s getting kind of close to the edge.
“Swing over,” I told him. He was flying and might be a better pilot than driver.
“Don’t jump off the cliff,” he said as he flew down, close enough that it sent the white fabric of her skirt flapping.
I jumped out, landed hard, but only had to take one knee before I was moving, walking over to the edge where Trixie stood like an orange flickering flame.
I was going to beg. I was going to kneel, but first, I swept her into my arms and carried her away from the edge. She felt so good against me. My heart ruptured and then flew away in a million pieces.
“Do you have any idea how unstable that peak is?” I growled. So much for begging. When was she going to knee my face and tell me it wasn’t any of my business?
“It’s dark,” she said, like that was an answer.
“Exactly. Dark is dangerous.”
“Are you wearing night-vision goggles?”
“Yes. I’m taking you back to the party. Where people are. Because otherwise…”
“Horse, you have to stop.” She squeezed my shoulder hard enough that her words got through my brain. “You have to take me back up there before José falls asleep. You didn’t notice him?”
Was there a slight flicker of heat behind her? I carefully set her down. “José? You’re up here with a man? Have you been drinking?”
She grabbed my bowtie and yanked me down and ripped off my goggles so I could see the shadows of her face and the flicker of heat in her eyes. Was that a spark of orange? I must be seeing things. Afterimage from the goggles or something.
“We’re getting married. That’s why you’re wearing a tuxedo.”
I stared into the shadowy contours of her face while the world rebuilt from ashes and flew like a phoenix across the dazzling sky. I looked up at the stretch of stars, so glorious above us. Darkness was good. Because then she wouldn’t see the manly tears that seeped beneath my eyelids.
“Charles was in on it.”
She nodded and then grabbed my hand and pulled me back up the rise to the edge where, apparently, José waited.
Father José. He used to be in the circuit but retired for his soul.
Good man. A solid choice. Like her boots.
White leather to match her white leather dress.
Her shoulders were bare. Was she cold? Her hand was very hot in mine.
Feverish. Was this all a fever dream on the edge of the world?
She turned to face me. “Are you ready?”
Was this real? “Always.” Whether it was a dream or not, I’d been made to love her.
Father José cleared his throat. “Here we are at Devil’s Peak to celebrate the union between two of the most solid fighters I’ve ever had the privilege to know. Trixie, do you promise to love Nate, protect his heart, and keep him humble, ’til death do you part?”
Love? She couldn’t say she loved me. That would be…
“Yes. I do.” She looked at me, stars glittering in her eyes with an intensity that demolished every barrier I’d ever made.
She loved me. She’d set up a surprise wedding under a sea of stars with a real priest. No.
She couldn’t do this. It was too real. She couldn’t love me, not really.
That would only lead to her being miserable after she realized what a lying piece of…
“And you, Nate, Horse, do you take this woman? Do you promise to love her, protect her heart, and cherish her ’til death do you part?”
Lies. I couldn’t start a life with her built on lies. She deserved honesty. She was promising to love me, and what did I have? Lies? She deserved so much more. So much better.
“Horse?” Trixie whispered, sounding uncertain.
I gasped for air and then blurted. “Death. Yes. I agree to death.”
“But do you agree to marriage?” Father José said, a hint of laughter in his voice.
“I do.” Because I couldn’t say anything else. Wracked with guilt, I was still in heaven with her.
“Then you may kiss the bride.”
I leaned over, head pounding, heart beating so fast it really did feel like I was on the brink of a heart attack.
Her lips. I was going to kiss her. My wife. My heart. My dragon.
The heat of her mouth flooded me like a bolt of lightning.
And then I fainted.