Chapter 19
NINETEEN
brOOKS
“So I’m just supposed to sit around and do nothing?”
Pascal leans back against the doorframe, eyes scanning the room in a way that tells me he’s seen and assessed everything but he’s still not letting his guard down.
Like a threat may come from any angle.
I appreciate that, I really do.
But seriously, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
“Listen to the man with security experience?”
I sigh.
“I’m not saying sit in your tower and wait around for us to rescue you both—”
“You’re not?”
He’s just given me strict orders on the places I can go (this apartment, my office building, Jean-Michel and Jace’s houses), on the people I can speak to (work is fine under all normal capacities, the situation with Briar, no one, with the exception of Jace and Jean-Michel because they’ve been “briefed” too), even on the way I have to act outside the house.
Be myself.
Luckily, I’m mostly a bastard so that front won’t be hard to maintain.
Pascal rolls his eyes. “I get that what I’m asking isn’t easy, but we found monitoring at Briar’s apartment and on her car. We need to buy some time to investigate that. I also need to speak with her, see what she knows about these people. Having a source on the inside will be invaluable.”
“No.”
His eyebrows fly up.
“She’s been through enough,” I mutter. “There’s no way I’m making her relive it all over again. Find another way.”
“It’d be easier if she—”
“No,” I growl. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s easier. She’s staying out of this, and your only job is to make sure she’s safe.”
Something settles over his face, but I can’t read it.
Maybe respect. Maybe frustration. Maybe solidarity.
Or a mix of all three.
Whatever he’s feeling, he doesn’t get a chance to reply because his head suddenly whips toward the hall, his entire body on alert. I feel a chill skate down my spine, but even as I’m processing that, I’m watching his body relax as he dismisses the threat.
Briar walks into view. “Pascal?”
He inclines his head but doesn’t otherwise move.
“It’s, um, good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes.”
She’s wearing the same pants and shirt as last night and I scowl.
But she’s not looking at me.
All her focus is on Pascal—who’s staring at her, assessing her…but still hasn’t moved.
“Are you here to bring me in?” she asks suspiciously, hand settling on her thigh.
On the bulge there.
My scowl fades.
Pascal keeps his arms and ankles crossed, and I know he’s spotted the lump in her pocket too.
The can of air freshener.
And he likes the idea of her thinking of it as a weapon about as much as I do.
That’s to say, not at all.
“No,” he says tersely.
Her eyes come to mine and I nod, explaining, “He’s going to figure out what’s going on and help us track down the people responsible for it.”
She exhales, hand dropping to her side. “I should talk to you, tell you what I know. I’ll help you get Brooks out of this.”
I open my mouth to protest.
But then she says something worse.
“Then I’m leaving.”
Pascal blinks—and that’s about as surprised as his face gets.
“We don’t need to talk about that right now,” I say. “You should be resting.” I can’t help my eyes from trailing over her too-thin body. “And eating.”
Her cheeks go pink and she glares at me before turning to Pascal. “What do you want to know?”
A pause that speaks volumes before he replies dryly, “What you know.”
“Did Brooks tell you what I told him?”
A nod.
“Then I guess you know what I know.” She spins on her heel, disappears into the hall.
“Where are you going?” I call.
Her head pops back into view. “Home.”
Then she’s gone again.
Pascal’s eyebrows lift as he glances in my direction.
“I know,” I mutter, and I’m already moving, brushing by him and intercepting Briar just as she reaches the front door.
Christ, this is getting old.
I snag her shoulder—
And promptly find myself pinned face first against the wooden panel, my arm pulled back with enough force that pain is rippling along the front of my shoulder, that I know one wrong move will leave me with a dislocated joint.
“Don’t touch me,” she grits out.
“Briar,” I say, reaching back with my other hand and grabbing her wrist. Not tightly, but firmly enough to ground her in the here and now. “It’s me.”
She hisses out a breath but doesn’t release me.
Not for a long moment.
Then her hands open and my arm is free.
I slowly turn to face her, but I don’t move away from the door. This new Briar can kick my ass, but threat of dislocation or not, I’m not just going to let her walk out.
I can’t.
“You can’t grab me like that,” she whispers, gaze on her feet.
“I’m sorry.”
She looks up, eyes going wide. “You’re sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say, uncertain of her tone. I can’t read it. She’s not mad, exactly. It’s more like she’s…astonished? “It’s not safe for you to leave,” I explain.
“You’re sorry?” she asks again.
“Yeah, baby. I—” I shake my head. “This is a mess and it’s complicated and it’s dangerous. I can’t let you leave.”
She opens her mouth.
“But more than the danger, than not knowing what’s happening and who these fuckers are that hurt you…it’s that I can’t let you leave.”
“You had no problem doing that five years ago.”
“I had a problem, baby,” I rasp. “It fucking tore me apart to walk away that day.”
Raindrops in her hair. Joy in her laughter.
Then…the wounded look on her face.
The empty house.
My empty life.
“I had to. You know why. You lived it. And it kills me that it doesn’t matter.
” I touch her cheek. “That despite me leaving, despite me giving them what they asked for, you still went through what you went through. I wish I’d done something different, anything different.
I wish I hadn’t walked away, wish I could go back and change it. ”
“Brooks,” she says quietly, her tone—
Fuck, I can’t take that cool disappointment in her tone.
“But I can’t, baby. I know I can’t make it right.
I know I can’t do enough for you to forgive me, I get that.
I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m just asking”—my eyes burn again and I clear my throat, push on—“no, I’m begging for you to let me find a way to get you safe.
For real this time. Then if you want to go, I’ll let you go. I promise.”
Those light blue eyes are unreadable as they hold mine for long, long moments.
“Okay,” she eventually murmurs.
Relief ripples through me and I open my mouth to reply—
Right as there’s a knock on the wooden panel behind me.