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“That’s a low blow,” Max said, striking Adam with the gun again. Max looked at Roman. “I didn’t swear this time.”
Roman waited, hoping he wouldn’t have to remove Olivia forcibly from the room. He wanted this to be as gentle as possible for her and Adam had already made it harder, more traumatic, than was necessary.
“Can I bring my coloring book?” Olivia asked.
She was breaking his fucking heart, her big blue eyes staring up at him, the gap in her front teeth a replica of the one Ruby flashed him when she smiled.
“Absolutely,” Roman said, picking up the coloring book. He thought about the crayons waiting for her in her room at the loft, wanted to buy her a thousand crayons, a thousand coloring books, anything to make her smile. “We can’t leave that behind.”
She scrambled to her feet on the bed and climbed into his arms.
He was surprised by the soft weight of her, the way she fit onto his hip like she belonged there, the way her legs tightened around his body and her arms slid around his neck.
“Are you taking me to Mommy now?”
“I am,” Roman said. “She’s going to be so happy to see you.”
He heard Max order Adam off the bed as they left the room.
Then Roman was crossing the cracked pavement with Olivia in his arms, the coloring book clutched in one hand as the door to the SUV opened.
Ruby appeared a second later, tears streaming down her face as she walked, then slowly started running, toward them.
22
RUBY
She lay on the bed next to her sleeping daughter, her hand on Olivia’s chest, tracking the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
She was safe. She was home.
Or if not home exactly, a place as close to it as Ruby could hope for under the circumstances.
She didn’t know what had happened to Adam, only that Max hadn’t killed him, per the agreement with Baz Rykov.
She hadn’t wanted to think about Adam when Roman placed Olivia in her arms, when her daughter buried her face in Ruby’s neck and said, “Where were you, Mommy? Why was your business trip so long?”
She’d wanted to focus on Olivia, on getting her cleaned up and back to New York, far away from Adam.
They’d gone back to the house in the Garden District where Ruby had given Olivia a bath. She’d dressed her in some of the clothes Roman had bought when he’d made the bedroom for her in the loft and they’d been back on Roman’s private plane less than six hours after Roman and Max had removed Olivia from the motel room.
Olivia was exhausted. She’d slept on the plane and again in the car on the way to the loft. She’d barely been able to keep her eyes open when Ruby made her pancakes — breakfast for dinner was Olivia’s favorite — in Roman’s giant kitchen.
Tears stung Ruby’s eyes, fell down her temples to dampen the pillow she shared with Olivia. She knew that brand of exhaustion, knew how trauma drained you of every shred of mental and physical energy.
And Adam had done this. He’d done this to their daughter.
Even now, she couldn’t fathom it. Adam had been a good father. He’d been strict before the divorce — after that he’d been more than happy to play Disneyland Dad — but he’d never mistreated Olivia, preferring to save his rage for Ruby.
That had clearly changed while he’d had their daughter in New Orleans. Ruby saw it in her daughter’s eyes, the way she flinched at loud noises, her almost eerie quiet, the way she looked up at Roman with trepidation instead of curiosity like she’d done when she first met him.
Somewhere along the way, Adam had tipped over into abuse, or at least mistreatment. Ruby hoped he’d only been harsh with his words — god knew he was a master in that department — because she didn’t want to think about the other possibility. That Adam had really lost it and hit Olivia.
Ruby hadn’t seen any marks on Olivia’s body when she’d given her a bath. Maybe she’d gotten there in time.
She sighed and sat up. She should go to bed. She didn’t want to leave Olivia’s side for even a second, but she was exhausted from the whirlwind trip to New Orleans, the lack of sleep while they’d been preparing to get Olivia out of the motel.
Ruby’s room was right across the hall. She’d shown it to Olivia when she’d given Olivia a tour of the loft, double-checking to make sure the door of the playroom was locked. Plus there was the baby monitor, a video transmitter matched with a small handheld device that would give her a picture of Olivia in her room.
