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Damn it. I should just sign the stupid marriage contract and get it done and over with. But not yet. I can’t cave yet. I don’t want to just give in and give them the satisfaction. I want to make them stew for at least another night. And that’s if they can prove to me that they really are the good guys here. Or at least not the bad guys? The anti-heroes?
Plus, I really want to see Mr. Kidnappy Kidnapping Pants suck it up and admit he was wrong. It’s worth holding out for one more day to watch him eat some major humble pie. Honestly, I think it will be good for him. He so, so, so deserves a slice.
CHAPTER 9
Azalea
At five sharp, Scarlet begins the hard task of herding her brood, including the four goons, toward the door. Laptops, tablets, and cell phones are packed up, and paperwork is shoved away. I have to say; I get it. I do. I believe Scarlet now.
While there wasn’t much hard paperwork to see, I did get to read over twenty different articles that talked about the Midnight Bandit—odd, since my name for Alden was Mr. Midnight at first—who struck in the middle of the night, redistributing wealth and foiling crime. There were numerous articles about crime bosses, drug lords, made men, and all other hosts of criminal titles you could think of getting stung, their fortunes disappearing in the dark—the same way they’d made them. There were others about evidence suddenly presenting itself to condemn some major criminals, and without their fortunes to stand on, they couldn’t intimidate police, pay their goons, or hire fancy lawyers. There were other articles, the good ones, about people having their lives changed, such as victims suddenly receiving huge amounts of compensation, people who feared for their lives stepping into the sunshine for the first time, areas with high crime rates getting cleaned up, scholarships, and people getting a hand up for the first time in their lives. Education. Beautiful change.
The evidence was all there. I know that, yes, the articles could be faked. They could be about someone else. They could be totally unrelated, but that was before I got a demonstration of their skills. Scarlet had taken pains to create false bank accounts, software, networks—I don’t understand any of that techy stuff—that were supposed to be failproof. The twins tried hacking them, but they couldn’t do it. Lennox got close, and Ransom got into the bank account. Only Alden could crack them all. Scarlet had beamed with pride. Again, yeah, I know that could be just for show, but the twins’ frustration over not being able to break their granny’s test was very, very real. I’ve never seen anyone go that scarlet, and in the twins’ case, it was times two.
A massive group of black swarmed toward the front door, and for some reason, I found myself there, seeing them off like I owned the place. Scarlet is in the kitchen, probably giving Alden tips about how not to mess up the supposedly romantic dinner she’s forced him to put together because he needed a not-so-subtle boot up the butt in the right direction. I wish she’d let him skip it. I wish he had refused. The last thing I want is to have dinner with my captor, sort of fiancé, and jerkus extraordinaire. My thoughts must be pretty obvious because, as one, the group breaks into encouragement meant only for my ears.
“Put it there, Zalee. It was nice to meet you.” Lennox offers me a fist bump. Yes, a fist bump. It’s the first one I’ve ever had in my life, and when my smooth knuckles meet his big, scarred ones, an odd smile breaks over my face.
Zalee. Goodness. A silly nickname shouldn’t make me feel this good.
“Take it easy on him,” Atlas insists. “He might seem hopeless, but he’s good shit.” He lowers his voice even further. “He’d kill me if he knew I told you, but that massive son of a gun was once the sorriest bag of bones and scrawny, moth-bidden hide you’d ever seen. He was in the hospital hooked to an IV for weeks after Scarlet got custody of him. He’d been eating garbage for so long that real food made him sick. Think projectile barf kind of sick. It was nasty.”
I’m not sure about the timeline, but I didn’t realize the twins were with Scarlet before Alden was. Or maybe they just know about it. Either way, his words hit home, scoring through me and hurting my stomach, though not because I’m squeamish about puke. He’d been eating garbage for so long… There’s a sudden mass in my throat that hurts to swallow, and my chest aches fiercely.
“Christ, that’s hardly a flattering story,” Orion points out. He breathes deeply. “On a more positive note, whatever he’s making in there actually smells edible.”
