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“Of course, if I wanted to get close, I could have without a problem. She had the safety on the whole time,” he says with a chuckle.
Darnell’s words take a moment to penetrate the haze of concern for my brother and the woman in question covering my mind. “Wait, what?” I look at Eden, and she shrugs.
“What? I never held a gun before, let alone shot one. I had no fucking clue what I was doing.”
Laughter from all three of us fills the corridor at her pronouncement.
“God, I needed that,” I say, holding my side that’s now aching.
“He’s going to be okay,” Eden says, standing beside me, although the tears filling her eyes and the quiver of her chin tell me she’s trying to convince herself as much as she is me. “He has to be.” She looks down at her hands. Clutched tight in her right hand is a silver handled switchblade.
I study her body language, her expression, looking for what she’s not telling me, and something in the back of my mind clicks. He finally cracked and let her in; she made it past his walls. I can’t stop the sad smile that spreads across my face for Kain.
Fucker, you better pull this off, or I’ll bring your ass back from the hereafter, kick it, and send you back.
“Oh, butterfly.” I pull her into my arms, careful of her side, kissing the top of her head, and hold her to me. “Of course, he is. Wyatt’s the best, and Kain’s been in worse scrapes than this before.”
She nods into my chest, her free hand fisting my shirt, and sniffs back tears.
“All right. Tell me what happened today.”
Eden releases my shirt and takes a step back. The loss I feel when she’s not in my arms is palpable, and an ache forms in the center of my chest. I rub my fist over the spot, attempting to ease some of the pain I feel.
“Kain took me out to his warehouse, and on the way back, Sid and his men caused us to crash. Kain must have been thrown from the truck because I found him lying unconscious in the road when I managed to get free. He came to in time for Sid to approach, but he was really weak, and one of his arms was dislocated.”
He took her to the warehouse? He never takes anyone there, at least not a willing person. Kain’s warehouse has always been his safe place. One he never shared with anyone. I’ve only been there a handful of times over the years. The fact that he took her there shows how much he wants to trust her … Or how much he already does.
I pinch my thigh, the shock of pain helping me to leave my minefield of questions and refocus on Eden and her story.
“Sid managed to overpower him and take his knife.” She shuts her eyes as she squeezes the blade in her hand. “He stabbed him with it, with this blade. Shortly after that, you,” she says then looks to Darnell, “and your crew showed up. He would have taken me if you hadn’t been there. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”
“Hellcat, I’m sure you would have put up one hell of a fight. You’ve got fire inside of you.”
Eden smiles under Darnell’s words. The look lightens a little of the darkness swimming inside my mind.
Why the fuck would he take her to his warehouse?
What the hell happened between them?
Was this Virgil or Donovan’s hit?
Who was the real target?
“Were they after you or was this a hit on Kain?” I ask bluntly, my mind whirling with unanswered questions.
“He was there for me. But I don’t know how they knew we would be on that road or that I was even with him.”
“I don’t know, but I’m wondering the same thing. They might know about Kain’s warehouse. We need to deal with it just in case.”
“Shit. Lucifer … In the warehouse … If they know—”
“I know what he does at the warehouse, butterfly. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” I tell her, turning to walk away.
A small hand grabs my arm in a rough hold, stopping me in my tracks. “No.” Eden takes a shaky breath, and her thumb rubs nervously over the mechanism to release the blade of the knife in her hand. It’s apparent she’s warring with how much information she should share about whatever took place tonight with Kain. “I did it.” Her voice is small, shy. “There’s a man there at the warehouse. He’s dead. I’m the one that, well Kain finished it, he wouldn’t let me, but I’m the one that did everything else.”
“Who was it?” I ask her, trying to understand her trepidation.
Her eyes meet mine; rage and shame fill her gaze, and I understand her hesitation. Whoever it is had hurt her deeply, but the side of her holding tightly to hope and light makes her feel guilty for whatever retaliation she inflicted on them.
