Chapter Thirty-One
Ashlynn
I had a hard time adjusting to the silence at the hotel. My father insisted that we stay there for a few days while I recovered. He never asked about what happened to me in Steele’s care, and every time I tried to even bring up the situation he changed the subject or left the room. I wasn’t sure if he was upset about what I went through, or if he simply didn’t care.
It was fine. I didn’t want to talk to him about it. I just wanted to know if Steele was alive. But part of me was too scared to ask.
So I spent the next couple of days watching TV and feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t dress, I didn’t shower. I slept during the day and was up all night.
My father came and went, mostly ignoring me. On the third day, he came into my room. I was still in the clothes that I had been wearing when I left Steele’s estate.
“We’re going home tomorrow. Shower. I’ve arranged for someone to come up and fit you for some clothes. And I’ve also found a psychologist to see you when we are back in the city.”
I sat there, stunned. I was a grown woman, and I didn’t want him to make these decisions for me. I opened my mouth, but he interrupted me.
“There’s also a doctor here to see you. They’ll make sure you don’t have any lingering…issues.” He shut the door before I could utter my protest.
A woman walked into my room in few seconds later. She was probably in her fifties, and smiled at me gently as soon as she walked in. She looked professional in a lab coat, and her black hair, streaked with gray, was pulled into a tidy bun.
“Hi Ashlynn, I’m Dr. Porter,” she said kindly, sitting in the chair opposite the couch where I was currently cuddled up in a ball.
I ignored her, my eyes glued to the TV.
“I know you’ve been through a lot, but I want to make sure that we treat any medical issues that have come up from your situation. I promise to be discreet. Nothing that you tell me will get back to your father.”
I sat up, suddenly thinking about what this woman could potentially offer me.
“I’d like to examine you, if I could.”
“No.”
She sighed. “Ashlynn, if you’ve been–forced, you need to be tested for—”
“I wasn’t raped.” It was the first time I’d said it aloud, and the realization hit me. I wasn’t forced or coerced into being with Steele. I wanted him. All the things he did to me, I wanted him to do. With the exception of our last night.
“Well, that makes this a lot easier,” she said cheerfully, opening the bag she brought with her. “Do you have any injuries that need to be looked after?”
I squirmed, wondering if I should still ask to be tested for any STIs. Steele said he was clean, and I still believed him, so I cleared my throat and asked for something else.
“No, I was treated well,” I lied. My ankles were still crusty and healing, but after Steele’s ministrations, it felt too private to show her. “But I’d love a prescription for a sedative, or an antidepressant.”
She frowned, looking at me intently. “I can give you something to help you sleep, but I really think you should establish care with a psychiatrist before you start anything long-term.”
I nodded. I was having trouble sleeping without Steele’s warm body next to mine. Even under my father’s care, I was still scared. Too many things had happened to me over the past month, and sleeping next to Steele was the only thing that made me feel safe.
The doctor wrote out a prescription and left it on the coffee table. “If you need anything else before you head back to the states, just let your father know and he’ll get in contact with me.”
I nodded, dismissing her the second I had the prescription. I’d call down to the front desk and get someone to fill it for me.
She left the room, and I turned off the TV, deciding it was finally time to shower. Before I could get started, there was a knock on the door. I answered it, and a young woman, perhaps just a year or two older than me, greeted me.
“Hello, Ashlynn. Your father arranged for us to get you some clothes. Can I come in and take some measurements?”
“There’s no need,” I said, perturbed at my father’s interference. “I’m a US size 10. Pick whatever you want.”
“But—” she stammered.
“I don’t need anything fancy. Jeans and some shirts. A pair of boots.”
She clearly hadn’t ever dealt with someone who cared so little about what they were going to wear. At this point I just wanted to go home to New York, and try to pick up the pieces of my life. I didn’t care what I wore to do it.
She excused herself, and I finally showered. I stood under the hot water for a long time, watching the water flow down the drain. I couldn’t help but think of that first shower that Steele watched, the way his eyes darkened with lust as he looked at my body. A chill went down my spine, despite the heat of the water, and my internal muscles clenched. I would miss the way he made me feel.
I dried my hair, then wrapped a bathrobe around me. I went out into the main room of the suite and saw that several garment bags were on the table. My father wasn’t anywhere to be found, and I had no clue what business he was attending to.
I brought the clothes into my room, looking for a pair of pajamas. There was a silk nightgown, but it reminded me too much of Steele, so I tossed it aside. Instead, I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and threw the flannel jacket that was there over my shoulders and laced up the boots.
I left the hotel room and rode the elevator down to the first floor. It was after nine o’clock, but I didn’t care. I marched outside and tried to get my bearings. I was probably a mile, maybe two, from Steele’s London townhouse. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I had to return there. I had to go back to the place where I’d first met him.
My feet took me past the sights of the city, and I ignored the noises of high density living—cars, sirens, chatter: I didn’t hear a single sound other than the beating of my heart and my feet on the pavement.
I got turned around a few times, but eventually I made it to his lane. I couldn’t get close since everything was gated and monitored. Part of me wanted to march right up to the wrought iron gate and bang my fists against it until his security team came, and implored them to tell me where he was. Would they force me to tell them what happened? Would they kill my father to rescue him?
Instead, I slinked around the fencing, thinking of the time when I escaped, only to be taken by even worse men. Steele had stopped at nothing to save me.
And here I was, not willing to lift a finger to save him.
I hated myself.
The tears stung in the cold wind, and I wrapped my jacket closer around me, hugging the warmth inside. Did I want this man to die? Could I beg my father for his life? Was I already too late?
The longer I stood there, watching the cold wind rustle the branches on the trees, the more I felt like I was doing something wrong.
I ran the rest of the way back to the hotel. It was almost midnight, so hopefully my father would be back at the suite.
I inserted the room key into the door and threw it open, but an empty room was the only thing on the other side. I wandered through the three bedrooms of the suite, and even into the bathrooms, but my father was nowhere in sight. Sighing, I sat on the bed in his bedroom, and something caught my eye. A silver gleam shone from the glare of the lamp, and I could see something metal in my father’s suitcase, which lay open on a chair.
I walked over, holding my breath.
It was a gun.
I instantly started shaking. All I could imagine was Steele on the receiving end of a bullet from that gun.
I heard the door of the suite open, and I quickly scampered out of my father’s room before he caught me going through his stuff. I perched on the sofa, and the second he came around the corner he froze, as if he was startled to see me.
“You should be asleep,” was all he uttered, moving past me and heading for his room.
“Dad. I want to talk to you. Please. It’s important.”
He loosened his tie and sat in the chair across from me. He drummed his fingers impatiently, and that little motion was enough to make me realize how unimportant I truly was to him.
“Did you get the guy who kidnapped me?” I tried to keep emotion out of my voice, tried not to mention Steele by name. I didn’t want my father to have any kind of notion that Steele had become more than my captor.
He sighed, running his fingers through his thinning hair. “I told you Ashlynn, I’m handling it.”
“Does that mean you have him? Is he alive?”
“He’s been taken care of.”
“What does that mean?” I pressured, my heart racing.
“He’s not dead, but he will be soon enough, so don’t worry. He won’t bother you again.”
Shit. He had Steele and he planned on killing him. If we were leaving tomorrow, it meant he was either going to kill him in the morning, or potentially transport him back to New York. I knew my father well enough to know that he would want to be the one to do it.
“Dad, please. I need details.”
“Why is this so important to you? I took care of it. Case closed.” He got up and moved towards his bedroom.
I debated telling him everything, but we didn’t have that type of relationship and I was afraid that if he found out what was between us, he would kill Steele out of spite.
“Dad, please—”
But he’d already shut the door.
I didn’t sleep at all. I sat on the couch in the main room, worried that my father would sneak off and kill Steele. I didn’t have any kind of plan or way to stop him, but that didn’t keep me from holding vigil all night long.
When the sunlight shined in through the white chiffon curtains, I started to pace the room. My bare feet hit the rug over and over as I practically wore a pattern around the coffee table.
Finally, my father’s door opened, and he appeared, dressed casually in slacks and a polo rather than his suit.
“Are you ready?” he said gruffly.
“Yes,” I whispered, grabbing the empty purse the shopper had picked up for me. I didn’t have my cell phone, or my passport.
“Dad, I don’t have any identification for re-entering the U.S.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, dragging his suitcase out of the room. “I’ve handled it.”
I followed him out of the room and down the elevator, and into a waiting limo. The drive to Heathrow seemed to take hardly any time.
None of my friends from New York were around anymore. A few were married; others had moved on to new adventures. There was no one for me to confide in, and, at times, I felt like I was going to burst from holding so much inside. I’d ignored the therapy appointment my dad had made, and instead I’d found one of my own. Even though I knew that no doctor could give my father information about me, I didn’t trust anyone he paid.
I was nervous for my first appointment. Part of me wondered if I was actually insane. Since being home, I’d done nothing but follow my father’s every move, stalk his Outlook calendar, and call his office to see if he was there. At times, he’d disappear for hours, and I worried about Steele.
I’d never shared the penthouse alone with my father before, and it was even lonelier and more awkward than sharing the hotel suite. He came and went, pretty much ignoring me. I did the same, having a hard time reconciling the man who was my father with the man who held Steele captive.
I took a cab to the psychologist’s office, not wanting my father’s private driver to know where I’d gone. The taxi pulled up in front of a large building, and I anxiously entered and rode the elevator up to the nineteenth floor.
Dr. Fleming’s office was a typical doctor’s office, calm and serene. A fish tank sat in the corner, and after checking in I sat next to it, watching a group of neon tetras schooling together.
My name was called, and I followed Dr. Fleming down the hall to her office. It was annoyingly cheerful, with potted plants in the corner and a teal and orange loveseat.
I wasn’t going to reveal the true details of my experience with Steele–not to some stranger who got paid to listen to me and tell me how screwed up my choices were. But the longer I sat there, the more details spewed out of me uncontrollably.
It only took the doctor a half an hour to figure out what it had taken me weeks to.
“You love this man,” she said kindly, handing me a tissue as I sobbed.
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to love him.” I blew my nose loudly.
She looked at me sympathetically. “Sometimes you just have to throw caution into the wind.”
I had to bring up Steele to my father. I wasn’t able to find out where he was keeping him, but I knew that Steele was still alive. For one thing, my father came home angry almost every night. I figured he must want something from Steele, something Steele wouldn’t give up. I’d tried to follow him after he left work this evening, but my cab had gotten stuck behind a large bus and the driver lost sight of him. When he came home that evening and I spotted a bit of blood on his dress shirt, I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Where are you keeping him?” I demanded.
My father ignored me, heading into the living room and pouring himself a drink.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
He finally turned to me, his eyes accusatory. “Did you sleep with him? You told the doctor in London that you weren’t forced.”
Red bathed my cheeks as the heat pooled. “Why would you ask that?”
My father stormed towards me, grasping me by the neck. I sputtered, shocked by his violence towards me.
“That fucker has been insinuating it for days. Tell me the truth, now! Did you sleep with him of your own free will?” He let go of my throat, and I fell backwards against the wall, massaging my neck.
“Yes,” I cried, cowering before the angry man in front of me. He raised his hand, and for a split second I thought he was going to hit me. But he lowered it and then stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door before locking it.
It didn”t take me long to formulate a plan once I’d made up my mind. I went straight to my room, pulled down my luggage, and opened up one of the pockets. Inside was a little GPS tracker that my father insisted we place in every piece of luggage we owned so we could track it if it went missing on the course of our travels. I turned the circular dot over and over in my hand, praying that my plan would work.
I tiptoed over to the foyer, feeling incredibly lucky to see my father’s briefcase still sitting there. I grabbed my mother’s seam ripper and picked out just a few seams from the bottom of the case, just enough to be able to fit the tracker inside. I took some double-sided fashion tape and rejoined the tiny tear, and then took in my handiwork.
It looked completely normal. Now, when my father left for work, I could track his location and figure out where he had Steele. Wherever he was keeping him, it had to be secure.
Secure. Which meant it would be locked.
I opened the briefcase, rummaging through the inside pockets until I found what I was looking for—a key ring with about ten different keys on it.
Thankful and determined, I crept out of the penthouse with the keys, heading out of the lobby and down the street to a 24-hour locksmith. He made copies of every key, and I felt somewhat empowered as I walked back to the building, the duplicated keys jingling in my purse. My father might think that I was dumb, but if everything came together, he’d lose his prisoner and his daughter within twenty-four hours. As I rode the elevator back up to the penthouse, my heart hammered and I put both sets of keys in my bra, worried that my father would still be awake and might potentially search me. In my heart, I knew he would think me incapable of pulling off such a stunt, but I was so close to my goal that I couldn’t leave anything to chance.
The penthouse was completely silent. I opened the door to my room, exhausted but also exhilarated.
I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I kept picturing Steele, locked in whatever place my father had him. My heart hurt and I became angry at myself for letting things get so out of control. I should have told him of my father’s plan to take me back, and I should never have allowed my father to leave England with Steele. I didn’t know what I was thinking, other than perhaps I wasn’t.
I couldn’t believe my father’s temper towards me. Even when I’d flooded Steele’s house or came at him with a knife, he’d always restrained himself and never hurt me. I couldn’t believe that I’d sided with the wrong man—but I was determined to make things right.
My father refused to speak to me the next morning, which was completely fine. As soon as he left in his town car I went down to the bank and pulled out all the money I had to my name. I had a trust account that I couldn’t touch, but that was fine. I had about $10,000 in savings bonds, and I cashed those in as well.
On my way back from the bank, I checked the GPS tracker. My father— or his briefcase, at least—was on Broadway in his building. That gave me time to pack a few things. I snuck into my father’s bedroom and went into the large closet. It was nearly the size of my entire flat back in the UK, and my father”s suits hung in a neat, tidy row against one side. My mother’s clothes were long gone, but I moved towards the wall safe, praying that some of her things remained.
The combination was still my birthday, and I nearly laughed when the door to the safe swung open, the metal nearly hitting the wood paneling of the closet. Inside was another several thousand dollars in cash, and I took that too. But it wasn’t the cash that I was after. My mother’s jewelry lay in soft velvet cushions, some of it in boxes and some wrapped carefully in silk. I stuffed everything into a duffel bag. I didn’t care about the monetary value of the items, even though I knew they were expensive, but I absolutely refused to let my father give them to his next wife. They would be mine.
I opened my phone, and I saw the tracker dot head towards an industrial area near the Hudson River. My breath caught in my throat and my heart pounded erratically as I watched the dot weave in and out of a few streets and then finally stop. It only took seconds to cross reference the location’s coordinates and then enter them into my phone. This was undoubtedly where my father was keeping Steele. After the realization that I had slept with Steele of my own volition, I knew my father would take it out on him. My stomach turned and I felt sick, praying that my intervention wouldn’t be too late.
Mom, if you can hear me, keep him safe. Please.
I raced back towards my room in the penthouse and grabbed a blank piece of paper from my desk. The room hadn’t changed since I’d left for college, and I looked around at the frilly bedroom, ensuring that there wasn’t anything left I wanted to take. My eyes caught on some of the discarded clothes I’d left, mainly my school uniforms from preparatory school, and I realized that Steele might need a change of clothing. Grabbing the paper, I ran back to the closet in the primary bedroom to pick out sweats and a shirt for Steele.
My mind kept racing, and I couldn’t help but think of things that Steele might need. He was probably starved, so I grabbed several bottles of water and then rummaged through the fridge and found some sandwiches that my father’s cook had made. Everything went into my duffle.
Finally, I penned the note I’d been dreading writing.
Dad-
I need some time away. Our fight upset me, and I’m going to head to a friend’s house in Florida for a bit to think things over. I’ll be home in a week or so.
-Ash
I couldn’t even bring myself to sign ‘I love you’ on the note. I was furious and hurt, but I didn’t have time to process my ruined relationship with my father. Steele came first.
I opened my phone again, and I saw the dot head back towards my father’s office. I prayed that he hadn’t done too much damage to Steele in the half-hour he was there. Gathering up the duffel bag, I placed the note on the side table in the entrance, dodging the maid in the family room as she vacuumed. I pushed the elevator button down, preparing myself to leave the penthouse for the last time. After this, there was no way my father would welcome me back.
Luckily, my father had used his favorite driver, Emilio, which left Sutton available. Perfect. Sutton was fond of me, and he’d watched me grow up. If anyone in my father’s employ would show me loyalty, it would be him. I had the doorman call him, and I tapped my toes impatiently in the lobby as I waited for Sutton to pull the car around. I tried to act natural, but it was hard. I’d never in my life thought I’d be able to pull off something like this, but I didn’t really have time to overthink it.
Sutton hadn’t even turned off the ignition before I slid in the backseat of the car.
“Take me here,” I said, handing him my phone. Sutton grabbed it, looking at the address.
“Ashlynn…” he murmured suspiciously, turning to look back at me.
“Please, Sutton,” I whispered. “I have money. I can send you more.” I thrust the bills into his palms.
“Your father is a man of many secrets, Ashlynn. You don’t want to go poking around there.”
“Oh, but I do. My life depends on it.”
Sutton looked at me, his face scrunched with indecision. Finally, he nodded, his fondness for me over the years weighing out.
The drive seemed to take forever, and every brake light in front of us sent my pulse soaring. We finally arrived at the address, and I got out of the car, wobbling slightly on my feet.
My heart was practically in my throat as I pulled out the set of keys from my pocket and worked the lock securing the large warehouse door. From both the rotten smell and the faded trout paintings on the side of the building, I could tell it was an old canning factory. I hadn’t even known that my father owned this building—it wasn’t listed anywhere on his business or financial reports, which meant that he’d either bought it just to imprison Steele, or his business dealings were as dirty as Steele had alluded to.
My hands shook so hard that I could barely get the key in the lock. The third key I tried finally unlocked the door. I entered right into the warehouse. Aging canning equipment was crammed all over the space. I pulled out my phone and used the flashlight, trying to figure out where Steele was being kept. I weaved in between the machinery, my eyes on alert. Up ahead a few feet on the concrete, I saw drops of blood. I bit my lip, suppressing a sob as I followed the trail into the very back corner. There was a room off to the side, windowless with a giant padlock.
I dropped the keys three times trying to get them in the lock. The last key finally did the job. I was nauseated from fear as the lock came away, hitting the ground and echoing through the empty factory. I pushed open the heavy metal door, and the smell of blood, thick and full of iron, flooded my nostrils. The room was dark, but I propped open the door to let some of the light flood the room.
I would never forget the sight for the rest of my life.
Steele was chained to the wall, hanging limply. His chest was marred with deep slashes, the lines crossing in irregular patterns. One eye was completely swollen shut, and the other was closed. He was barefoot, but still wearing jeans that were barely hanging on. It was clear that he hadn’t eaten in many days by the way his jeans hung low. I could see the hollow dip in his hips, and I gasped audibly.
He lifted his head, peering at me closely with one eye.
“Ashlynn…oh Ash.” His speech was slurred and I could tell right away that he wasn’t coherent. “I’m not a religious man but I prayed I’d get to see you one last time, even if it’s in my head.”
His face bobbed up and down as he attempted to look at me.
“Steele,” I whispered, walking towards him, trying not to cry as my shoes slipped on a fresh trail of blood. He tried to look at me again, but he lacked the strength. I wanted to reach out, grab him, tell him it was okay, but there wasn’t any place I could touch that didn’t look like it would cause him pain. Bruises marred his skin, and I thought I saw a burn on his right shoulder. Finally, I leaned in as gently as I could, and I kissed him on the forehead.
His head jerked up and he squirmed, in pain but also disbelief.
“I’m here,” I said, the tears now falling freely. “I’ve come to take you home.”
“My home is wherever you are,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’ve seen you so many times while I’ve been here, but this visit is the best.” His face leaned into my hand, and he let out a small, breathy sigh.
“I’m really here.”
“I must be near death,” he mused, closing his one good eye.
I wanted to shake him, help get him out of whatever delusional state he was in, but I couldn’t hurt him anymore. However, every second I lingered in the warehouse made the situation more and more precarious. I brought my lips to his, carefully, and kissed his swollen mouth, hoping it would help him break through his psychosis. He kissed me back, moaning, his eyes still closed. It was the first time he’d kissed me and hadn’t hardened, which worried me extensively about the state of his injuries.
“Steele, I need you to pay attention. I’m going to get you out of here, but you have to help me. I can’t carry you.”
I grabbed the keys out of my pocket, and then reached up to unlock his chains, incredibly thankful I’d had the sense to make copies of them all.
The second I leaned in towards Steele, he moaned in pain. I jerked away and saw the residual blood on the front of my shirt. My shirt had stuck to one of his wounds, and it was enough to pull the scab off. The wound started bleeding freely. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and I flew to the corner, vomiting up ropey strands of bile.
“You never vomited in here before,” he mumbled, his forehead wrinkling. “You just kissed me. When your father did his worst, you were in the corner. Telling me it would all be okay.”
The tears burned my eyes, and I inhaled sharply as he described his hallucinations. What exactly had my father done to him?
This time I reached out from his side and undid the thick cuffs, freeing him. The second his hands were unbound, he collapsed into a pile on the floor.
I kneeled beside him quickly. My jeans were now covered in his blood, but I didn’t care.
“Steele, you’ve got to get up. Lean on me.”
He looked at me, and everything seemed to finally sink in after he hit the ground. “You’re really here?”
“Yes. Now get your ass up, and let’s get out of here.”
He smiled before wincing from the pain. “That’s my girl,” he said, pushing himself up off the ground. He finally got to his feet, but he was so weak he could hardly stand. I wrapped my arm around his waist, knowing that I just had to get him to the car. Once I did that, Sutton would help me with the rest.
Step by step, we finally made it out of the warehouse to the waiting limo. He could barely climb inside, but Sutton, hiding his horror at Steele’s injuries, helped me shove him in. I slid into the backseat next to Steele, ensuring the partition was up. I trusted Sutton, but I was afraid of what my father’s intimidation could do. I’d begged him not to tell my father about Steele, and to just tell him he took me straight to JFK. He agreed, but I knew my father too well.
I grabbed my duffel from the floorboard and pulled out the food and clothes. If Steele had been more with it, he probably would have figured out where I’d got the clothing and refuse, but he was fading in and out of consciousness and didn’t fuss as I slipped a t-shirt over his head. I couldn’t get him to eat or drink, which horrified me.
“Steele, I need you to give me a phone number. That man who was with you when I was taken. He needs to wait for us and help me get you medical attention.”
“Cooper. He’s probably taken over my business already. It’s not important. I just want you.”
I sighed. He was acting like a toddler, and while I understood his confusion and delirium, I really needed to get help.
“Steele, think. His number. A phone number.”
He slumped against the backseat, his head off to one side. Shit. He was in really bad condition.
“Daniel. Give me Cooper’s number and I’ll kiss you.”
His face perked up and he whispered the digits to me. I dialed the numbers on my phone triumphantly. I’d planned to ditch my phone as soon as we got to the airport so my father couldn’t track me.
Steele picked up his head and leaned towards mine, eager for his kiss, but I just gave him a quick peck as the phone rang. He scowled but then rested his head against the seat as Sutton headed towards JFK.
“Cooper.”
Thank god.
“Cooper, this is Ashlynn Phillips. Do you know who I am?”
“Of course I do—where is Steele? I’m going to have this call traced and come find you—”
“Steele’s with me. We’re en route to the airport in New York. I’m bringing him to France.”
There was silence on the line. Then a deep chuckle.
“I don’t believe it. He said you loved him, but I told him there was no way—”
I didn’t bother to correct him. He could think I was acting out of love if he wanted, but I was sure it was guilt. “I need you to have his medical team meet me at the airport with an ambulance. I don’t have connections here in the states for medical care without tipping off my father. I can’t just bring him to an ER here and…he needs medical attention.”
“I’ll take care of it—what are we talking about here?”
I glanced at Steele, who had passed out again.
“I think he has a concussion, probably several broken ribs. Internal bleeding. He”s malnourished, and he’ll need—significant stitches. Maybe even a skin graft.” I bit my lip, trying not to cry as I described the enormity of his injuries.
“Fuck. Your father’s a prick.”
“I don’t disagree with you. Can you get it done?”
“Yes, I’ll have everything at the airport when you land. I’ll have Glinda set up the house for him. Are you staying as well?”
I looked at Steele, thinking about how terrified I was when I walked into the room in the warehouse.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
The flight was uneventful. Luckily Tiffany, the cabin attendant, didn’t ask me any questions about why my father hadn’t joined us. She had given me an odd look as I dragged Steele onto the plane, but I hid his injuries the best I could and told her he was a friend who was hungover. She just took the money I gave her and turned her head the other way. She was young and would find another job easily. Same with the pilots.
My stomach rumbled nervously, but thankfully my father’s tracker was jumping from high-rise to high-rise for meetings. I hoped it would be a few hours before he realized that I’d stolen his jet.
Steele slept most of the flight, but I did get him to drink some water here and there. He was taking a turn for the worse though, and I had so much nervous energy in me that I couldn’t help but start pacing as we got closer to France.
“Miss Phillips, you need to take your seat,” Tiffany said, as the plane started the descent.
I nodded and sat next to Steele on the sofa. He was passed out again, but I grabbed his hand and laced our fingers together, preparing for the landing.
As soon as we got close enough to the ground, I could see an ambulance waiting for us on the tarmac. True to his word, Cooper provided for Steele. As soon as we touched down and the aircraft door opened, a team of doctors came onboard and eased Steele onto a gurney and swiftly loaded him in the back of the ambulance.
A younger man, probably in his late twenties, was overseeing the team of doctors, shouting directions and observing Steele’s care.
I rushed over, prepared to climb in the back of the ambulance. The man stuck his hand out, preventing me from jumping in.
“You aren’t coming with, Ashlynn. I’m his family—well, the closest thing he’s got. I’ll take care of him.”
I glared. “Cooper, right? Tough shit. Try and stop me and see what happens.”
He grinned, and then moved his hand back. “Fair enough.” He joined me in the back of the ambulance, while the medics worked on stabilizing Steele.
Cooper took in the extent of the damage. “Shit. Your father really hates him.”
I sighed, knowing part of it was my fault. “He knows I slept with Steele, and knows it was of my own free will. I think that pissed him off more than if I was forced.”
Cooper rubbed his chin. “Damn, that’s harsh.”
I nodded, watching as the medical team set up an IV and began giving Steele fluids and what I suspected were antibiotics. I couldn”t understand most of what they were saying, but it seemed to me like they were debating between sending Steele to a hospital versus treating him at home.
“If he can be treated at home, that’s preferred,” I said, advocating for him the best I could. “If he’s in the hospital, there will be records. I don’t want anyone to know where he is.”
The team looked at each other, and then seemed to all nod in agreement. Instant relief hit me, and I hoped Steele’s security in France would be enough to keep us safe in case my father pieced together my deception.
“Cooper, my father said he had an informant on Steele’s security team—”
“It’s already been handled, Ashlynn. I’ve been looking out for Steele for the past six years. I know what needs to be done.”
I didn’t argue with him, especially since I’d had the opportunity to prevent this debacle, to tell Steele what was coming for him, but I didn’t. I vowed to make up for it, though.
“Ashlynn…” Steele’s voice came out weakly.
He hadn’t spoken in a couple of hours, so my head instantly jerked in his direction. His eyes were closed, but his fingers were held out, searching for mine. I gulped, then grabbed them, holding his hand as gently as I could.
Cooper gave me a knowing look as he watched the exchange, but I ignored him, putting all my attention on Steele.