Chapter 13
13
KERRIGAN
I was shaking. Not from fear. At least, not the kind I’d ever experienced before.
This was something different. Deeper.
Maybe terror mixed with relief.
The danger had passed. I was safe. I had survived my kidnapping. But my heart hadn’t caught up yet. It still thundered in my chest, pounding against my ribs as though it was trying to escape what I’d just witnessed.
The world around me was a blur of gunfire and shouting. But through it all, there was one constant—Aston.
He stood halfway across the room from me like a dark avenging angel, his chest rising and falling beneath a black shirt that clung to him like a second skin, blood smeared across his forearm.
I didn’t know if I should be grateful to see him. Or afraid.
I had just witnessed the man I loved savagely taking out every last one of my captors. I should’ve been screaming at the violence, but even with what I’d learned about him and the brutality I had seen, Aston somehow still represented safety to me.
His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild. And the second his gaze locked with mine, his shoulders dropped like someone had cut the strings holding him together. “ Putain. ”
Hearing him rasp one of his favorite French curse words was so familiar that it brought tears to my eyes.
My feet moved before my mind caught up, and I ran to Aston.
The zip ties around my wrists bit into my skin, my balance off from how long I’d been restrained. But it didn’t matter. I stumbled into him with all the strength I had left, burying my face against his chest. His spicy scent was tinged with sweat and gunpowder as I dragged it into my lungs.
“You’re safe now, ma petite miette ,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my hair. “No one will ever hurt you again.”
My entire body trembled as he wrapped his arms around me, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other splayed protectively over my spine. As his palm stroked down, it was blocked by my bound wrists. “ Merde. ”
He used his knife to quickly free my hands. My arms dropped forward, and I gasped as the blood rushed back into my fingers with a pins-and-needles burn.
After sheathing the blade, Aston caught my wrists gently and rubbed them with his thumbs, cradling them as though they were made of porcelain. He looked up at me with something like anguish in his eyes.
The tremors in my limbs began to subside, but another kind of shaking took their place. It was an inner reckoning.
As relieved as I was to be in Aston’s arms, I couldn’t unsee what he’d done. And even though I could rationalize his violence because it was in defense of me, I couldn’t unlearn what I now knew to be true about him. The secrets he’d kept from me.
I tilted my head back to look at him. There was blood on his temple, and his jaw was clenched tight. His eyes were still wild and predator sharp.
He was terrifying. And he was mine, the same way I was irrevocably his.
“Aston…”
My voice trembled, and he froze as though he immediately sensed my inner conflict.
Aston let me go, oh so slowly, his hands lingering on my sore wrists as though he was reluctant to release me. But he finally did, allowing me to step back.
His jaw ticked, and his hands fell slowly to his sides. But I saw the war that raged in his eyes. He wanted to drag me back into his arms, but he didn’t.
The fact he was battling his inner demons to give me what I needed sent a crack through the wall that I was trying to build around my heart. But I had questions that I couldn’t put off, so I forced myself to remain strong.
The air between us vibrated with the aftermath of everything I’d seen and heard. Blood. Gunfire. Dead bodies.
There was no pretending that I didn’t know who Aston really was. No more charming mystery or flirtatious distraction.
My voice was stronger than I expected as I said, “I need answers.”
He gave a single nod, his nostrils flaring. “You’ll have them. All of them. J’te jure .”
Our eyes locked, and I felt that pull again. I didn’t resist, giving myself this one beautiful moment before he gave me his truths. Instead, I leaned forward, and he met me halfway, his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that was all desperation and gratitude and longing. It was unsteady and imperfect but also somehow more meaningful than all of the other kisses we had shared.
But then I broke contact, gasping for breath as I took a step back again. My voice was shaky as I whispered, “We can’t. Not yet.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Those answers I promised you.”
“Yes.” I dragged my hands through my tangled hair and straightened my spine. “I want the truth. All of it.”
His expression darkened, regret flickering in his gray orbs. “You deserve that.”
“I do.”
“I tried to keep you away from all this.” He scrubbed his hands over his bearded cheeks. “The dark side of me I never wanted you to know.”
“The part that’s a forger for the DeLuca Crime Family,” I prodded with a grimace. “And a killer.”
“Yes.”
My soft laugh was rueful, holding no humor. “I should have known when you showed me your studio. All the proof I needed was right in front of my eyes, but I refused to see it. The Caravaggio that was auctioned off the night we met, it was a forgery done by you, wasn’t it?”
His chest expanded before he admitted, “It was.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, my hope for our relationship withering as I wondered if anything that happened between us was real. But I needed to know other things more urgently. “The men who took me suspected you were involved, but they didn’t know for sure. After they explained who you actually are, they told me that I was to be used as leverage against you. And that I would remain unharmed if you cooperated.”
“Apparently, Sterling Ellis draws the line at murder.” His nostrils flared as he glanced down at my bruised wrists. “Not that it’s going to save him.”
My eyes widened at the familiar name. “The insurance investigator?”
Aston’s voice was tight with fury as he explained, “He’s trying to take down the DeLuca Family. His company is furious that they’ve failed to recover so many stolen pieces, and he’s convinced we’re behind most of them. Which, to be fair, we were.”
I didn’t respond except for a nod for him to go on.
“He’s trying to set us up. He planted a stolen and easily recognizable painting in one of the deliveries to the Belladonna Gallery. A Manet he knew we couldn’t sell without getting caught. When that happened, the blame would land on me—and by extension, The Family.”
With the information I’d already learned, his explanation wasn’t too much of a surprise. “And the kidnapping?”
Aston’s jaw flexed. “It was as you said, Sterling wanted leverage. And to give me a warning. You were never supposed to be in this. But when he realized you were close to me and suspected Nativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrence was a forgery…”
His voice broke off, and he looked away, his fists clenched at his sides.
My knees were weak, but I forced myself to stand tall. “He no longer considered me an innocent bystander and used me to get to you.”
“Yes.”
The word sounded as though it was ripped from his soul.
Tamping down the butterflies that threatened to swirl in my belly over the depth of his anguish over me being pulled into this dangerous situation, I went over everything he told me, letting the pieces fall into place. A plan formed in my mind, one that hinged on Aston trusting me.
“You should use me against him.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I’m a curator. A junior one, but I have unfettered access at a museum with countless pieces his company insures.” I tapped the tip of my index finger against my chin. “Sterling’s reputation is on the line because you’ve cost his employer too much over the years. He wants a win. Something big. And he’s not just coming after you. He went after me too.”
“That’s on me,” Aston growled, his voice low and rough. “You were never supposed to be part of this. Not like that.”
“But I am now.” I stepped closer, just enough so that I could feel the heat of him again. “So let’s use that.”
His brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”
I paused, my mind racing. “What if we give him what he wants? Not the win, though. Just the bait.”
He didn’t say anything, but his sharp gray eyes remained locked on mine, searching. Calculating. But also clearly unhappy with the idea of letting me get pulled further into this mess.
I took a breath. “We create something for him to ‘discover.’ A piece that looks like a forgery tied to you. But this time, we lead him into the trap.”
I could see the shift in Aston the moment he understood where I was going. His posture changed just slightly. Like a tiger scenting blood in the air.
I pressed on, adrenaline surging. “We pick a mid-tier piece. Enough value to draw attention but not so famous it gets instant outside scrutiny. I’ll curate it. We ‘find’ it through an estate or a private collector and plant some inconsistencies in the provenance to raise red flags. Just enough to make Sterling feel as though he’s the only one smart enough to notice.”
“And then?”
“I play the inexperienced curator.” I widened my eyes and batted my lashes. “Nervous. Eager. Maybe a little too quick to ask for help. He’ll try to pull me in—either to coerce me or trap me into being part of the whole thing. And when he does, we record everything. Emails. Messages. Conversations.”
“Set him up with his own game,” Aston murmured, and there was something almost reverent in his tone.
“Yes.” I nodded, my heart pounding now. “He’s a man who thinks he’s smarter than everyone. Who sees me as a pawn. Let’s make him underestimate me. Just once.”
His gaze burned into mine, stormy eyes full of something fierce. He slowly stepped forward, lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair from my face with aching tenderness. “ Mon Dieu , you’re brilliant. You know that?”
I felt my breath hitch. I craved his praise, but it wasn’t the compliment that undid me. It was the look on his face. That raw mixture of admiration and hunger. Pride. Devotion.
“You’d trust me to pull this off?” I asked, unable to keep the vulnerability out of my voice.
“I trust you with my life.”
His quick reply and faith in me healed something in my heart, but it still wasn’t enough. Not yet.
“I appreciate that.” I looked up at him, aching with confusion and longing. “But I need time before we discuss the relationship stuff.”
He nodded once, lips brushing my temple. “You can have anything you want, Kerrigan. Anything except me letting you go.”
Another piece of my fractured heart mended into place. My voice was raw as I asked, “How much of what we had was real?”
There was no missing the sincerity shining from his eyes. “All of it. Every second. I wanted to be the man you believed I was, but I’m not. I’m more. And less. I’ve done things that would turn your stomach. Yet, for the first time in my life, I wanted something good. Something real.”
My chest ached. “I wanted that too.”
A long silence stretched between us. So many things unsaid.
“Then that’s what we’ll have after we take down Sterling Ellis with your brilliant plan,” he vowed. “And you’ve taken the time to come to terms with the man who I am.”