Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ALEXANDER
Rows upon rows of terraced houses line the street where Imogen is being held. Cars are parked on either side, leaving a narrow channel down the middle of the road for a single car to pass. I still don’t know who’s taken her, but it doesn’t matter. They’re dead already.
“Here.” I point to a nondescript house with the curtains closed—an odd thing to do at the height of summer this early in the evening. The paint is peeling on the front door, so much so it’s impossible to tell what color it should be, and weeds push up through cracks in dull, gray paving.
Douglas stops the car, blocking any traffic from getting through, and the four of us climb out.
“Follow my lead.” As I unholster my gun, I consider the possibility that some nosy neighbor might report us to the police, or maybe think we are the police. Doesn’t matter either way, although I’d rather get in and out without ending up overrun with Met police officers. They’ll slow me down, and I want my wife home, safe and sound, as soon as possible. “I want him taken alive, and Imogen unharmed. ”
I still intend to kill the bastard, but I’ll do it painfully and when I’m ready. A gunshot to the head is far too good for the prick who dared to take my woman.
“Boss, I still think you should let me go in first. If he’s armed, I’ll take the hit, not you.”
We had this same argument the entire journey here. Steven is only doing his job, but I don’t care. I’m trained in combat, martial arts, and weaponry. I’m as qualified, if not more so, than Steven. So is Nicholas. Our entire family knows how to take care of ourselves.
“One more word, and I’ll put a bullet in your forehead and end this pointless debate once and for all.”
Douglas snickers while Steven gives a disapproving head shake but keeps it zipped.
There’s an alley a couple of houses down that leads to the rear of the terraces. We hurry around the back. There’s only one window with the blinds pulled halfway down. I peer inside. It’s a small kitchen, and there’s no sign of Imogen, but it won’t take long to find her.
I draw in a deep breath, count to three, and kick the door in.
I’m inside, arms straight out, gun cocked and ready. Nicholas follows me, with the bodyguards bringing up the rear. The kitchen has an archway leading through to the hall and stairs up to the next level.
Imogen is lying face down with a man sitting on top of her, yanking on her hair. A roar explodes out of me, and I throw myself at him. We crash to the floor. I punch him again and again, and once I’m sure he’s too weak to fight back, I push up off him and gather Imogen into my arms. It’d gone down easier than I hoped. For all I knew, there could’ve been half a dozen men holding her, and then I’d have needed the added muscle of Nicholas, Steven, and Douglas.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
She uncharacteristically bursts into tears, her tiny fists gripping my jacket, turning her knuckles white.
“Take him to the car,” I order Steven. “He’s coming back to Oakleigh with us.”
As easily as lifting a sack of potatoes, Steven throws the perpetrator over his shoulder and marches through the small kitchen, with Douglas bringing up the rear.
“Go with them,” I say to Nicholas. I want to be alone with my wife. I’m so close to breaking down, and that’s not something I need or want my bodyguards or my brother to witness.
Nicholas touches my shoulder. “She’ll be okay.”
I nod but don’t answer. I can’t. My feelings are clogging my throat. Sitting on that grimy floor holding my wife in my arms, with the thoughts of what might have happened running through my mind fills me with horror. He could have done anything to her. Anything.
“Baby.” I kiss her hair. “Talk to me. Tell me he didn’t hurt you. Tell me you’re okay.”
She sniffs, then hiccups. “You never call me baby.”
“You’ve never scared the shit out of me by being kidnapped before.”
She manages a weak smile. “I never thought Will would hurt me. I thought he was my friend.”
Frowning, I brush a strand of sweaty hair off her face. “Will?”
It takes a second for the name to register. When it does, my entire body goes rigid.
Edgerton .
It was fucking Edgerton astride my wife, pulling on her hair.
Edgerton who dared to take her, even after I warned him what would happen if he came anywhere near her.
“I’ll kill him.”
“He’s sick, Alexander. He said… he said…” She hiccoughs. “He was going to mail me back to you in pieces.”
White-hot fury rushes into my bloodstream. The only person who’s ending up in pieces? Will fucking Edgerton.
Schooling my expression to ensure I don’t scare my wife takes effort as I kiss her forehead. “Let’s get you home.”
She sighs and clings to me as though I’m a life raft and there are fifty-foot waves all around us. “How did you find me so fast? I left my phone with Vicky.”
I glower. “I’m aware.”
“It’s not her fault. I asked her to help me.”
“And she should have refused.”
“She’s my friend. She’s honor bound to help.” She giggles. I think it’s shock setting in. I don’t tell her that Victoria will be dealt with. She won’t make the mistake of putting my wife at risk again.
“Anything could have happened to you. Victoria knows she did the wrong thing.”
“Is she all right?”
Incredulous, I stare at her, my eyes wide. “Is she all right? Good God, Imogen.”
“Don’t be mad at her.”
“I’m mad at both of you.”
She cups my face. I close my eyes for a second and let the warmth of her palm soak into my skin.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“I could have lost you.” My voice, all raw and husky, sounds nothing like me. I kiss her temple and lift her into my arms. Once she’s settled in the car, I close the door and turn to Nicholas. “It’s fucking Edgerton.”
Nicholas nods. “I saw.”
“Where is he?”
My brother jerks his chin at the boot. “Steven tossed him in good and hard.”
“Good. Let’s go home.”
I gently coax out of Imogen what happened, my rage barely contained as she talks me through it. Once she’s finished updating me on the last few terrifying hours of her life, and mine, she closes her eyes. On the journey back to Oakleigh, she dozes on and off, probably due to the shock and the remnants of ketamine that bastard injected her with.
When we finally arrive home, I lift her from the car and carry her up the stairs to our apartment. After laying her on top of the bedsheets and ordering her to stay put, I draw her a bath. Once it’s ready, I undress myself, then her, and we sink into the hot water.
She lets out a sigh and rests her head on my shoulder. “I really am sorry.”
I kiss her hair, balancing my emotions between wanting to spank her for being so fucking stupid and putting herself in danger, and kissing her until neither of us can breathe.
“I went to see Lilian.”
When Victoria confessed where she’d taken Imogen, I guessed she’d gone to visit Lilian, and why. She wanted answers Lilian would never have given her. Full marks for trying, though.
“What did Lilian say?”
“To talk to you. She wouldn’t share anything else, not that I expected her to, but just talking aloud to someone with whom you’ve shared your secrets helped.” She twists to look at me, making waves in the water. “I need to know what happened, Alexander. Why you switched from being so loving at our picnic on Wednesday to asking me for a divorce three days later.”
A sinking feeling weighs heavily in my stomach. The moment of reckoning is coming when I have to tell her everything. But not now. Not when I’ve just got her back and have an overwhelming urge to care for her, to love her, to be with her.
“Can we put a pin in that until tomorrow? You’re exhausted, and so am I.”
She takes a few seconds to consider. “Okay, but tomorrow. No putting it off any longer. I want full disclosure.”
“You’ll get it.”
She resumes her previous position, sighing as she rests her head on my shoulder once more. “I didn’t sign the papers.”
“I know.”
“Will you have new ones drawn up?”
“No.”
“Does that mean you’re keeping me?”
My chest tightens, and I draw her closer to me. “Forever, Little Pawn. There’s no escape.”
“Good, because this is where I want to be.”
She may think differently when she knows what I’ve done to her, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.
Once the hot water has done its job, I dry us both and tuck her up in bed. She refuses anything to eat, and by the time I flick off the bedside lamp, she’s already asleep. Kissing her on the forehead, I caress her cheek and take one last look at the woman I might have lost if it weren’t for the tracker in her arm .
I’m ready to face her fury when I tell her the truth, but however mad she is, I wouldn’t change what I did. That tracker allowed me to pinpoint her location and rescue her within an hour of finding out she was missing. Considering she left her phone with Vicky, the tracker is what saved her. Without it, Edgerton would have tortured and killed her in his sick game of revenge.
I head down to the bowels of the house, where I told Steven to take Edgerton. When I enter, an unexpected, if familiar face greets me with a raised hand and a wry smile.
“Mahoney, what are you doing here?”
Patrick Mahoney is the head of the Irish Mafia. My family calls upon him and his brothers whenever we need muscle, but I didn’t bring him here today.
“Yer brother here called. Said you had a job for me.”
I glance over at Nicholas, who shrugs. “Every death leaves a stain on our soul, Xan. I’m not sure this piece of shit is worth staining yours for.” He juts his chin at Patrick. “So, I sent him a text as soon as we left Chalk Farm. It’s your call, though.”
I don’t agree with my brother, but I appreciate the gesture. Killing Will with my bare hands isn’t an issue for me. He touched my wife. He abducted my wife. He hurt my wife. He planned to kill my wife. In my world, those crimes are unforgivable.
But death takes time—at least it does the way I do it—and I’m eager to get back to Imogen. I don’t want her to wake and find I’m not there.
I stalk over to Edgerton. He looks out of it, head lolled forward. I slap his face, and he jerks to with a moan. One eye is swollen shut, and there’s dried blood caked around his nostrils. His hands are looped behind his back and fastened to the wooden chair he’s sitting on—his ankles, too. I plant my hands on the arms of the chair and tip it backward until it’s resting precariously on two legs.
“I fucking warned you what would happen if you touched my wife.” My voice is eerily calm. I don’t get mad in these situations; I get fucking even.
Give the idiot his due, he dares to glare at me as if he has any power, anger swirling in his eyes. “Do your fucking worst. You think you scare me? You don’t.”
Nicholas’s snicker comes from somewhere over my left shoulder. Patrick is dead silent.
“You should be scared. Oh, but not of me.” I drop the chair back into place and turn to face the Irishman. “Patrick, he’s all yours.”
He dips his chin once. “Any special requests?”
I consider his question for a moment. “Yeah. He looked at my wife, so take his eyes. And he put his hands on her, so take those, too. After that, do whatever you want to him as long as he’s not breathing at the end of it.”
Before I even have the chance to close the door, the first piercing scream erupts.