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“But we can work together on this one,” Gallo continues, ignoring him and staring at me. “We can tear this city to shreds, and if Accardi’s really still here and laying low, we’ll find him, but only if we pool resources. We can get what we really want and forget about the girl.”
Forget about the girl… easy for Gallo, easy for Frost.
But for me?
“I can do that,” Frost says. “Costa?”
I don’t know what to say. I’m still too stunned to process. Hellie’s Dad, here in Vegas, the root of all our problems. If we can catch him, get all the money he stole back—
Then there’d be no reason to hold Hellie anymore.
I could let her go and be done with this nightmare, and she wouldn’t be in danger.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Yeah, we can find him. I’ll help.”
Except I don’t know if I want to, because I’m not sure Hellie would ever forgive me.
Not that it matters at this point. I can’t forget she’s the one who tried to run. She’s the one who ended whatever we started together. She made her choices, and now I have to make mine.
Find her father. End this mess.
Let her walk free.
Even if I’m angry with her, even if I feel like she betrayed me, at least I can give her this much.
I can give her some freedom.
Chapter35
Erick
Istep into the house in the desert feeling conflicted. I haven’t been here in nearly a week at this point, but I can’t keep avoiding it forever, especially not now.
It’s cool and dark, but it smells incredible. Marina’s making my favorite—a simple spaghetti Bolognese. It’s pure heaven in my mouth, that woman’s freaking sauce. I’ll have some later though—I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment.
Soldiers are posted throughout the property, some walking outdoors in the heat, most hiding in the shade. I nod at the few I recognize, make sure I stop in the kitchen to say hello to the best cook in the whole fucking city, aware that I’m stalling before I do the one thing I actually came here to do, before forcing myself to climb the steps to the second floor.
She’s in the studio. Her personal guard Tony’s in the hallway, but I dismiss him. If I’m going to see her, I want privacy, because I’m not sure how I’m going to handle this interaction.
I pause outside of the door, gathering myself, before heading inside to face her.
Hellie’s on her stool in front of the easel and doesn’t look over as I enter.
The painting looks incredible. I draw in a surprised breath. She’s made a ton of progress. It’s still rough, but coming into shape, and I’m even more impressed than I was the first time. It’s like the more she does this, the better she gets, and she was pretty damn good the first time around.
I wait and watch her for a little while. I let myself forget about the betrayal and focus on the way she moves. On the girl herself, the reason I fell. Her wrists, her fingers, the way she brushes her hair back. Paint stains her sweats, her shirt, the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her hair’s tied back and held in place with a clip. Her lips press together, her eyes squint, and each mark she makes is considered for a moment before it appears.
Her entire world is that canvas. I marvel at her beauty, at her confidence, at her talent. It’s seductive, what she can do; I’m still drawn to her, despite everything. I wish it were otherwise, but I still want her, still need to taste her lips and feel my fingers dimpling the flesh on her hips. If I could turn off this part of me, I would. That would make my life so much easier.
Instead, she’s a constant, low-level hum in the back of my mind. Always there.
“Hellie,” I say, and when she doesn’t react, I repeat her name louder.
She jumps and looks back. Her mouth opens, her eyebrows raise. Fuck, those eyes, I missed those eyes so much. I missed the way she looks at me.
“Erick. When did you get here?”
“Just a second ago.” I decide not to tell her that I’ve been watching for nearly a half hour now. I don’t want her to know what I’m feeling. I don’t want to give her the chance to use it against me. “We need to talk.”
