I stop. This is the best safe house I’ve ever seen. The cabin is built into the rock itself, invisible from above or from any angle. From the path, it looks like shadow and stone until we’re right on top of it.
“Come on.” Justice stomps up the short steps and shoulders open the door.
Leo bolts past him, nails clicking on the wood as he bounds inside, tail wagging like he owns the place.
I drag myself up after them at a slower pace. My clothes are heavy, my hair plastered from rain and debris, and my body screams for rest. I’m wet, I’m freezing, and I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere. “Where are we?”
Justice shuts the door behind me and flicks on the lights. He’s dripping rainwater onto the floor, dark hair plastered to his head. His jaw is cut from stone, his bone structure sharp, his mouth hard. Muscles stretch tight under his soaked shirt, every line carved and unyielding. His dark brown eyes are cold, pissed, and alive with power. He’s currently serving as the leader of the Irish mob while his brother is out of town, standing in the shadows of a cabin, and somehow he looks like sex and danger wrapped in one. “Safe.”
The place is small but solid and has one bed, a kitchenette, and a bathroom I can see off to the side. A sofa and two chairs are arranged in a square that looks like they’ve never been sat in. There’s no warmth or clutter. This place is temporary and utilitarian, obviously here as a true safe house. “This doesn’t make any sense.” I scan the bare walls.
Justice moves past me into the kitchen, crouches, and reaches under the counter. He pulls a hidden lever. A trap door near the bed slides open, revealing stairs leading into shadow. The steady hum of electronics rises up to meet us.
That sound lifts something in my chest. “Now that’s better.”
Justice doesn’t move right away. His gaze locks on the Glock in my hand. “Give me the gun.”
“No.” I tighten my grip, daring him. “I’m not defenseless anymore. You have two guns and I’m keeping this one.”
His jaw ticks. “Hand it over.” He steps in close, all hard muscle and authority, his hand closing over mine. He pries my fingers back, ignoring my struggle, and yanks the weapon free.
“Don’t,” I snap, fury flaring hot inside me.
“I don’t take risks I don’t have to,” he says, sliding the Glock into the back of his waistband. “And you, Ella, are a risk.”
Leo growls low from where he’s settled near the sofa, ears forward, tail twitching. Justice doesn’t even glance at him. He just turns for the trap door, commanding without effort. “Let’s find out what’s going on.”
I glance toward the kitchen to see if there’s a knife block. Anything I can use for a weapon. Nothing. I can run, but the way I’m feeling, I won’t get far.
But downstairs? There are computers. Humming. Yeah. Those are weapons, too. He shouldn’t let me near them.
“Come on,” he says.
Gladly.
SIXTEEN
Ella
In the cabin’s underground computer room, I stare at a screen showing a news crew at the smoldering skyscraper housing Malice Media. This place is high tech and delightful. Leo has long since gone upstairs to sleep—no doubt on the bed. Justice types next to me and then finally sits back. “They hit the penthouse and not the social media hub on the main floors.”
Yeah, I noticed. I turn to face him in the swivel chair, noting he doesn’t look tired. Not like I feel. He appears pissed off and ready for revenge. “You think they want you or me dead?” People know he took me out of that hospital, and it’s easy to find his apartment.
He shrugs powerful shoulders. “Who knows. Maybe both?”
A two-for-one. Smart. This isn’t good for him, not by any means. It’s public. Thorn’s out of town. If Justice doesn’t strike back at somebody fast, he looks weak, which in the mafia, Irish or Russian, is bad. He’ll haveenemies coming for him. There’s no chatter on the web. “I can’t find who ordered this.”
“Neither can I.” A muscle in his jaw clenches. He has a tough guy jaw. We’re both in danger, and he might be in more than me.
I yawn. “I need to use the bathroom. I don’t suppose you have dog food anywhere upstairs?”
“No, but I keep steaks in the freezer. Take a couple out and thaw them in the microwave. We can feed him one.”
I like that. Leo needs to be fattened up. “Fine.” I yawn again and stand, wobbling slightly. Mud has dried on my jeans, making them stiff. “Extra clothes?”
“In the bathroom cupboard. Nothing will fit you.” He’s already turned back to one of the three computers.
“Great.” I limp to the stairs and chug up them, reaching the main room to see the dog snoring in the middle of the bed. I hesitate. He’s a good dog and I want to keep him. Hopefully Justice won’t hurt him.
