Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Aiden moved through the dark, Romanov at his side.
He wasn’t too keen on the arrangement, but it was a necessary evil—James was liable to snap Romanov’s neck if he had the opportunity.
They approached the side of the north warehouse facing the water.
There were two men milling near the door. The guards.
They didn’t break their stride, moving almost as one.
He shot the man on the left, and saw the one on the right drop at nearly the same moment.
The silencers on their guns made the smallest of sounds as they delivered death.
It didn’t seem right. Death should be an event—something loud and impossible to ignore.
But the guards’ silent slide to the ground suited his purposes.
He glanced back without slowing down. Mark and his men would remove the bodies and take out their replacements, leaving Aiden and Dmitri free to search the warehouse.
There was a second team coming in from the back with the same intention.
At the south warehouse, James was doing the same thing. One of them would find her.
They had to.
He strode into the warehouse and froze. Charlie sat in the middle of the space, her head lolling, covered in so much blood it was a wonder she had any left in her body. He started for her, but Romanov threw out a hand and stopped him short. “Not yet.”
That’s when he noticed the moaning body at Charlie’s feet. Mae.
Aiden shoved Romanov’s hand away and stalked across the space. A movement in the hallway between two stacks of pallets morphed into a massive man who looked intent on murder. Aiden didn’t give him the chance to take another step. He shot him.
He kicked the chair across from Charlie out of the way and pointed the gun at Mae.
“Wait.” Charlie’s voice rasped through the roaring in his ears.
He didn’t look away from the woman on the ground. “This is the only way.”
“Aiden, wait.”
He kicked the knife away from Mae’s side and then used the same foot to flip her over onto her back. Her nose was definitely broken, the bottom half of her face covered in blood. She blinked at him. “What are you doing here?” The words came out jumbled.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you.”
“Aiden.” Charlie took a shuddering breath. “Aiden, call my dad. Do this the right way. Please.”
He didn’t want to. Mae was a threat—even if the theoretical trial managed to come down in their favor and put her behind bars, she could orchestrate a whole lot of damage from a prison cell.
“You won’t be safe as long as she’s alive.
” His finger hovered on the trigger, his need to keep Charlie safe overriding everything else.
But if he shot Mae right now in cold blood, he’d lose Charlie forever.
He took one step back, and then another. “Romanov, get something to tie her with.”
“This is a mistake.” But the Russian did as he asked.
Aiden grabbed the knife from the ground and moved to cut Charlie’s ties. “How hurt are you?”
“I’m alive.”
It was an answer and no answer at all. He kept a hand on her shoulder so she wouldn’t slump out of the chair, and moved around to check her injuries.
There were shallow cuts everywhere, but judging from the amount of blood that was half-dried, she wouldn’t bleed out like he’d feared before they could get to safety.
He glanced over to make sure Romanov had secured Mae and then back to Charlie.
“Fuck, Charlie.” He kissed her, quick and light, and then picked her up to cradle her against his chest. “Let’s go home. ”
The fact that she didn’t argue with his carrying her told him exactly how hurt she was. He turned to Romanov, but the Russian had a phone to his ear and a vaguely annoyed look on his face. He hung up and slipped it into his pocket. “We have to leave now.”
“Cops?”
“Feds.”
It figured. He didn’t know if John Finch had a way to track his daughter, but if Aiden had been driven batshit crazy with the knowledge that Charlie was at Mae’s mercy, surely even a stone-cold bastard like the fed would be affected.
He held Charlie closer and started for the door. “Leave Mae for them.”
“Gladly.” Romanov didn’t follow him, though. “You may use my residence for a stopover before returning to Boston.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have business to attend to.”
It wasn’t really an answer, but Aiden had more pressing concerns than Romanov’s games—namely, getting Charlie somewhere safe so he could clean her up and figure out how badly she was injured.
So he could apologize for getting her into this mess to begin with.
He shouldered out the door and stopped short. Mark and his men were facing off with cops. All had their guns drawn and steely looks on their faces, but his attention was caught and held by the man in the center. John Finch.
Guess I didn’t move fast enough.
Charlie raised her head, and the relief on her father’s face was apparent for all to see. He strode forward, ignoring the standoff around them. “Charlie.”
She managed a smile, which made Aiden want to hug her tighter. “Dad.”
He’d never met John Finch in person, but the man looked older than in his pictures.
Or maybe it was seeing his daughter in danger that had aged him in such a short time.
His eyes were Charlie’s eyes—though more gray than blue—seeing far too much.
His gaze flicked between them, and Aiden didn’t try to hide how he felt about the woman in his arms. He and Charlie had some shit to work out, but he fully intended on making this thing between them permanent.
Both he and John Finch had a lot to come to terms with as a result.
“Dad, Mae Eldridge is in the warehouse—alive.” Charlie’s voice was strong despite the circumstances. “She kidnapped and tortured me. I’ll testify.”
“We’ll talk about that later.” He looked at Aiden again and hesitated, seeming torn. Finally, he cursed. “You and I will have words later, as well, O’Malley.”
Since it suited his purposes perfectly, Aiden didn’t comment on the fact that Finch was more concerned with arresting Mae Eldridge than seeing his daughter to the nearest hospital.
He didn’t ask about her injuries, didn’t show more than the barest hint of emotion, aside from walking directly to her despite the hostile men at Aiden’s back.
From the way Charlie wilted, just a little, as he carried her away from the warehouse, it was clear she hadn’t missed it, either. “I knew you’d come.” She spoke so softly, he had to strain to hear her.
He kissed the top of her head and made his way to the waiting car. They’d stop over at Romanov’s “residence” long enough to get her cleaned up, and then they’d go back to Boston. Any talk of the future could wait until them. “I’ll always come for you, bright eyes. Always.”