Chapter 2
Chapter Two
ANDIE
As soon as I hit the dusky cream marble floor of the lobby of Falcon Tower, I stumble over my feet and fall to the floor on my hands and knees, my body finally giving out. Six men are on me, guns trained, shouting at me not to move. Not a problem. I don’t think I could even lift my head at this point.
My mind blurs in a haze, shutting down. I’m caked in dried blood, my face once again swollen and bruised. A look that I seem to be wearing a lot since I returned to the States. When I crashed through the lobby doors of Falcon Tower, the adrenaline that had been fueling me to fight and to escape runs out. I’m exhausted and just need a moment to catch my breath.
“Andie!”
I can’t even muster the strength to acknowledge his voice. Lying down, I curl in on myself on the hard foyer marble floor. Hands grab at me and lift me up, and I whine in pain at being jostled.
“We’ve got you, bella . Hold on,” Liam says.
“Where the fuck did she come from? How did she get here?” Keane barks, pressing in.
I blink tear-glassed eyes up at him, and his face darkens when he takes in the abused, bloody, and beaten sight of me.
Jax appears to my other side, and I can tell that he wants to rip me out of Liam’s arms and into his own by how his hands keep outstretching then ebbing, reaching toward me then away, uncertainty plaguing him on what to do.
The elevator doors open and Declan rushes forward, a mixture of fear and relief in his violet-colored eyes when he sees me.
“Get her upstairs to her room, right fecking now,” he tells Liam. He turns to one of his men. “Tell Mike if he isn’t here in five minutes, he won’t live to see the sun come up in the morning.”
My mind blocks out the cacophony around me and becomes numb, not able to handle anything more, as I’m carried into the elevator. I just need to sleep.
Someone slaps gently at my face. “Stay awake, princess.” Of course, Keane would be the asshole who won’t let me even close my damn eyes for two seconds. “You gotta stay with us until the doctor checks you out.”
I know I have a concussion. Multiple actually. But the need to sleep is overpowering. That feeling quickly and painfully dissipates when I’m placed in a bed. God, every-fucking-thing hurts so much.
“Keane, I’m so sorry,” I rasp out.
“Tinker Bell, there isn’t a damn thing for you to apologize for,” he tells me, bending over the side of the bed and caressing a hand down my matted, tangled hair.
I try to shake my head, but it hurts too much. He doesn’t get it. “Alejandro took them. The rings.”
Keane releases a string of very vocal curse words when he looks down at my left hand and sees where Alejandro broke my finger.
I meet the green eyes of my Reaper. “Jax, my knife. Keep it safe for me,” I tell him, my vision wavering. “Rita is dead. He killed her.”
“Good,” Keane growls. “Saves me a bullet.”
I must’ve blacked out for a second because I suddenly come to when someone shouts, “When is the doctor getting here?”
I’m in a bed, in a room I don’t recognize.
“Pearson, can you handle things for now?” Declan implores.
“Out,” a thick Russian accent says, and I assume the person speaking is the mysterious Pearson I haven’t met yet.
“Not fucking happening,” four angry male voices say at the same time, and for some bizarre reason, I want to laugh because it’s the first time that Keane, Jax, and Liam have all agreed on anything.
But it’s the fourth voice that catches me by surprise. The one I thought I may never hear again.
The mattress dips and Rafe whispers, “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”
I burst into tears, so freaking happy that he’s here and alive. And so fucking sad that he’s absolutely wrong.
Because what he just said is a lie. It’s not going to be okay.
My senses awaken with the smell of spice and sandalwood, and I open my eyes to see gorgeous blue ones watching me. I know better than to try and move, because if I do, the killer migraine I’m sporting will only intensify. My head is nestled into the soft goose down pillow, the silk pillowcase smooth against my swollen cheek where Alejandro punched me. Rafe is facing me, his head resting on the same pillow as mine, my right hand and his left one joined together and lying between us.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
Somehow, I’m dressed in clean clothes—an oversized tee and loose sweatpants—all remnants of the blood now gone from my hands and arms. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Someone must have cleaned me up and dressed me when I was out cold. Whoever it was, deserves a huge thank you.
I let go of Rafe’s hand to reach up and stroke his face. The short, dark beard he’s grown since the last time I saw him looks really good. I trace my thumb over his cheek and chin and back again.
“I like this.” My fingertips play with his short stubble.
Rafe winces when he moves closer to touch our foreheads together, and I’m immediately concerned because he’s still recovering from his injury.
“Do you need anything? Are you in pain?” I ask him.
He should be in his own bed, taking it easy, but I’m selfish and will refuse to let him leave if he tries to go.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
My heart soars with his small grin.
“Where is everybody?”
Instead of answering, his thumb touches my sore lip. “Andie, I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to protect you from my family, but?—”
I stop him immediately by covering his mouth with my hand. When he ceases trying to talk, I remove it and replace my hand with my lips, kissing him softly. He sighs, and the tension in his body relaxes. He takes over and kisses me deeper. I refuse to allow the sting of my cut lip to prevent me from living in the moment with him.
“No apologies. Ever. You don’t control what your brother or father do,” I tell him, smiling when I remember something. There is so little right now to smile about.
“What?” he asks, confused at what I’m finding humorous about the current topic of conversation.
“Just a promise I made myself,” I reply, but don’t go into any detail about the promise to lock us into a room and fuck his brains out the next time I saw him.
We’re both not in any condition to pursue that little fantasy. I also need to tell him what happened between me, Keane, Jax, and Liam. It wouldn’t be fair to assume he would be on board with me sleeping with all three men. However, as much as I want him and still love him, I’m also in love with them . The reality of that hits me like a freaking sledgehammer because it shouldn’t be possible. And yet, it is.
“By the way, you’ve earned my trust back,” I tell him and giggle when he sends me the most boyish, lopsided smile I’ve ever seen. This is the Rafe I fell for when I was a teenager.
“I want to take you out on a date,” he blurts, the sentiment completely out of the blue.
“You do?”
He pecks the tip of my nose. “Oh yeah. I never got the chance to do that for you. Like a proper date where we hold hands and flirt. Fancy attire, music, candlelight, expensive food, dancing—the works. I would tell you how pretty you look and open doors for you like a gentleman. All in the hopes of getting in your pants later, of course.” He winks at me, his grin showing the dimple on his left cheek that would always make me swoon.
This man. The shit he’s been through that should’ve erased any boyish charm left in him. Yet, here he is, teasing and flirting with me as if we were teenagers again with hearts in our eyes. If we weren’t both so injured right now, I’d be crawling all over his dick.
“I’d rather lie under the maple tree and count the stars at our place in the park.”
He lightly kisses me again. “I can do that. Andie, there’s something?—”
“Safe to enter?”
I’m lying on my side facing the door, so I see when it cracks open and Tessa pokes her head inside, a hand covering her eyes.
“Put your damn hand down, drama queen.”
“I never know with you,” she comments, and Rafe’s eyebrows raise to his hairline.
There’s a lot I need to tell him, but not right now.
She walks over and slides into bed with us, snuggling on the other side of me, and I’m grateful I’m in a California King or else it would get very uncomfortable with the three of us smooshed together.
“So this is what it’s like,” she chirps. “Except there’d be two guys. Sorry, babe. You’re badass sexy and all, but…”
Even though she can’t see my face, I roll my eyes.
“Seeing as Rafe hasn’t answered me, where are the guys?” I ask her.
“Ummm… Liam is outside with Declan.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about right now,” Rafe intercedes. “The important thing is for you to rest. All that other shit will still be there when you’re healed and stronger.”
The lighthearted banter from minutes ago dissipates quickly into the ether as reality comes tumbling back. I don’t need to rest or heal. I don’t need coddling or protecting. I need vengeance.
“How long was I out?”
Tessa rests her hand on my hip. “About three hours.”
Oh, thank fuck. Only a few hours.
“Would you mind giving us a moment?” Declan says, entering the bedroom.
I have a feeling that my room is going to be a revolving door of people for the unforeseeable future.
“Pearson wants to check your bandage,” he says to Rafe. Tessa gets up and offers her arm to help him get out of bed.
“Want some homemade biscuits and molasses to eat?” Rafe asks me.
“Hell, yes.” My smile is genuine.
“Oh, dear God,” Tessa bemoans.
“Hey, you said you liked it now,” I remind her.
She purses her lips together. “I lied. It was the only way to get you to shut up about it.”
I decide the pain of throwing my pillow at her is worth it.
When they’re finally gone, Declan stands just inside the room, his reading glasses hanging from his shirt, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. It’s a stance he often takes, and I find that I like it. He looks very fatherly.
“How are you feeling?”
I force myself to sit up. “Better.”
He moves over to the side of the bed and rearranges the pillows around me. I recline back in a more comfortable position against the headboard.
“You look tired.” There are purple smudges under his eyes the same color as our unique irises.
Chair legs scrape across the floor, and he sits down, then reaches across the bed to take my right hand.
“I never thought I’d ever have kids of my own. Didn’t want them, to be honest,” he confesses. “The type of life I live isn’t one to subject an innocent child to. But I’m so damn glad that you’re my daughter, Andie.”
Tears I seldom shed immediately gather in my eyes and spill over.
Declan squeezes my hand, a look of love, regret, and remorse marring his face. “I love you. You will always come first. I will gladly sacrifice anything for you.”
His words rip me open, but they also heal a deeply buried part of me. The part that is the little girl who grew up yearning for a father to love her, not to abuse and hurt her. But Maximillian Rossi isn’t my real father. Declan is.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and he smiles wistfully. Like what I said is the most wonderful, beautiful thing he has ever heard.
Bending over me on the bed, he presses a kiss to my forehead, and I soak it up, so starved for the tenderness of a parent. “Get some rest. I need you ready.”
A mask falls over his face when our eyes meet. It’s a mask I’m all too familiar with after growing up as a child in the mafia. The man before me is no longer my father.
“Ready for what?” I ask. But I already know.
“War.”