33. Denver
Chapter 33
Denver
I sit in my car and watch from a distance as Harley locks up Pulse. We’re closing early so the staff can get some sleep before helping at the wedding tomorrow, so it’s a little after midnight, and my heart thuds in anticipation.
Three weeks have passed. That time has been filled with wedding planning and photo shoots. We’d given an interview for one of the more popular prints, in which Ranger and I had dressed the part and sat on the sofa, his arm around me, my hand on his thigh.
It was the first interview we’ve ever given, and we span a tale of love discovered after loss. Wyatt died tragically, and Ranger had been my beacon of strength through it all. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was far more romantic in print than in real life.
And now the wedding is tomorrow, and I have a few things to do.
If I’m going to have a fresh start, I have to forget the last few years of my life, forget what I did to Wyatt, and move on. But to do that, I have to wipe the slate clean.
Once Harley drives away, I let myself inside Pulse, finding my way into the office using the torch on my phone. I open the floor safe no one knows exists, remove the false bottom, and stare at the small, red velvet bag.
I reach in and, hands shaking, tip the contents into my hand.
Wyatt’s wedding ring.
The god-awful ring I hate. I’m not sure why I took it that night. Maybe I needed a reminder of what I’d done or that Wyatt had existed. Or maybe, like some killers, I wanted a trophy.
Regardless, I’m throwing it into the water tonight.
I close the safe and leave the office. With each step down the stairs, my heart feels lighter. This is it. A fresh start. No more lies.
I reach the bottom and turn to the exit, and my heart rate spikes.
Detective Hayes is standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the door. I curl the velvet bag into my palm and clench my fist, hoping he hasn’t seen it.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He grins. “Not happy to see me?”
“No. And this is private property.”
He approaches slowly, his grin lazy and accomplished. Anxiety curls around my heart and stomach. Why is he so damn pleased with himself? My palms start sweating, and the velvet bag feels hot in my hands.
“I got an interesting call tonight,” he says.
“Good for you.”
“Wanna know who from?” he asks, circling me. I shift in place, trying to keep my eyes on him as he rounds me. “A young lady called Marley Maxwell. Do you know Marley Maxwell, Denver? Well, I guess you wouldn’t. It’s not her real name, after all. It’s a stage name.”
My patience begins fraying. “Fascinating. Can I go now?”
“Denver, please,” he says. “Let me build up to this because I’ve been imagining this moment for months. Now…” he begins again, his voice light, “Marley recently had a crisis of conscience and decided to call and make a little confession. She told me that she was one of the women your husband was fucking.”
He stops circling and faces me, grin still wide.
“We haven’t been able to speak to any of the people Wyatt touched. They were like ghosts. It almost started to seem like there were no women at all. Well, lovely Marley told me that she felt guilty because she liked Wyatt, and she’d lied to him. She acted like they met by coincidence in a bar, but it wasn’t a coincidence at all.”
I feel cold. My breathing is short.
“She was hired , Denver,” he says. “And can you guess who hired her? Hired all of them? Wait!” He grins and holds his hands up. “Can I say it? I want to say it.” He leans close. “Ranger. Luxe.”
I try to control my shaking, my rage, my disbelief. “You’re lying.”
“Oh no,” he says. “I don’t lie. I’m a good cop, remember? I don’t have to lie. Your husband-to-be, well… it seems he lies an awful lot.”
Ranger didn’t do this. He didn’t hire those women. He wouldn’t.
“But I’m not done, Denver,” Hayes says, pouting dramatically. “I also looked into your dad’s will because I could not get my head around why you were with Ranger. It made no sense to me. I knew guys who worked the case to try and bring down your dad, and everyone knew he hated Ranger toward the end. So, why would he write in his will that Ranger was to look after your finances? Why would he write in his will that he wanted you to go to him?” He shrugs. “The answer is simple. He didn’t.”
“You’re lying!” I cry. “I… I was at the will reading. I was there!”
“But did you read the will? Or was it read to you?”
I can’t think. I’d been so torn up over losing my dad that I trusted what the family lawyer told me. Why wouldn’t I have trusted him?
“You see, Denver, Ranger hated your dad. He really did. Nico wanted out of the gangster life, and Ranger saw that as betrayal, so he waited. And he waited. And the moment the opportunity came up, he killed your dad and snatched you. It’s the best revenge, isn’t it? Taking Nico DeLuca’s little girl in, raising you in a world Nico didn’t want you raised in, and fucking you for good measure, too.”
I slap him. He flexes his jaw and smiles. It doesn’t deter him.
“The two men you loved most, your dad and Wyatt, were erased from your life by Ranger Luxe,” he says. “And uh… how long until the wedding?” He checks his watch. “Eighteen hours?”
“None of that is true,” I say. “Ranger wouldn’t do that. He loves me.”
“Aw, Deluxe,” he says, stepping toward me. I back away. “No, he doesn’t. You’re a means to an end for him—petty revenge. And you’re covering for him. You’re protecting the man who has taken, and taken, and taken from you. Because you’re weak.”
“I’m not,” I whisper.
“Yes, you are. And the moment he marries you, you’re stuck. You’ll be Ranger Luxe’s wife. Miserable. Alone. And won’t Daddy be proud? Won’t Mommy be proud? And baby Theo…” He tuts. “What a disappointment Mommy turned out to be.”
I lunge. I slap him, punch him, run my nails down his face, and he seizes my wrists, pushing me back, and I fall. I hit the ground, pain spreading through my side.
And I open my hand.
Hayes glances between me and the dropped bag and snatches it up.
“No.” I grab for it.
But he’s already opened it.
And the howl of laughter that escapes his lips sends a chill through me.
“Well, fuck me!” He puts his hands on his knees, his face close to mine. “I think I might solve your case after all!”
“No, Hayes, please?—”
“What was that?” he says, cupping his ear. “The great Deluxe is begging?”
I can hardly breathe. “You don’t understand what happened!”
He seizes my hair, and pain blasts across my scalp. “No, I don’t care what happened. You killed a man, and that’s all that matters. And now you’re going to prison for it. I am so going to enjoy watching you rot.”
Crack .
Blood spatters across my face.
The smell of iron fills my nostrils.
I squeeze my eyes closed, thick clumps of something sliding down my cheeks and neck. I tremble, my breath coming out in quick puffs.
Hayes feels heavy on me. I can’t breathe.
I blink quickly, wiping at my eyes, the smell of blood turning my stomach. And then I see him.
No.
No, no, no, no.
Not him.
Anyone but him.
“Axel, no.” I reach for him and try to blink again, but there’s blood in my eyelashes. There’s blood everywhere. I wipe my sleeve over my face.
Axel stares at me. Wide-eyed. Trembling. Gun in hand.
I manage to get from under Hayes and to my feet but stumble. There’s blood. So much blood. Axel is still holding the gun, but his hand is limp.
“Denver…” He looks at me, then at Hayes. “I didn’t… There’s…” He looks at me again. “You have blood.”
“Axel.” I take the gun from him.
“I killed him.”
“You had to.”
“I killed him.”
“Axel.” I cup his face. “You have to go. You have to leave now, okay? I’m going to fix this.”
He trembles. He has spots of blood on his face. I lick my thumb, rubbing the crimson marks from his cheeks.
“I’m…”
“No, you’re not,” I say, tears stinging my eyes. “He was going to hurt me. You protected me. Axel, look at me ,” I whisper. “The alternative was letting me die.”
It’s a lie. Hayes wouldn’t have killed me. He was going to do what he’d always wanted and lock me away for the crime I committed. But I can’t let Axel know that. I can’t let him believe he’s killed a good man.
Oh god, Axel. My Axel. The kid who played video games and thinks drugs aren’t cool and hates the life his father leads. He’s killed for me.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. I can smell the blood, feel it drying on my face. “1182 Forster’s Avenue. Say that back to me.”
He tears his gaze from Hayes’s body. “What?”
“Axel, 1182 Forster’s Avenue. Say it.”
“1182 Forster’s Avenue.”
“Good, you need to go there. Do not stop. Do not speed. Do not call anyone. Do not tell him what happened. Someone there is going to look after you. Okay?”
I hope.
“Aren’t… aren’t you coming with me?”
“I have to fix this. Go. Now,” I say. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He nods and looks at Hayes once more before turning for the door. He opens it, and the cold air blows in, and now I’m shivering, too.