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“Good.” I bring her hand to mine and kiss it and I don’t miss how pale she is, how dilated her eyes. She’s still drugged, still in need of rest. “Let’s go to the fancy hotel room I rented, feed you, get naked and talk about how to make that happen.”
Her tears fade into a smile. “Yes. Let’s do all of those things now.”
“Elevator or stairs?”
“Stairs. I might have slapped Randall. And I might want to do it again.”
I laugh, and we head to the stairs, my arm sliding around her shoulders. “I can’t wait to hear that story.”
She laughs again, such a perfect fucking laugh, and starts telling me all about it, and while our mood is lighter, there is still reality to face. She was kidnapped and Hunter was murdered. We still have no idea who did either of those things. And I don’t know if I can take her back to the castle until we do.
Chapter one hundred sixteen
Emma
Jax hugs me close as we exit the Knight office building into the chilly wind, by way of a side door that leads to an alleyway. Savage—looking big and intimating in jeans and a leather jacket—is leaning on the black SUV waiting for us. He opens the back door to welcome our entry, and when I arrive at his side, eager to relieve myself from the wind, Savage says, “Emma?”
I pause. “Yes?”
“I promise to beat the asshole who did this to you to a pulp so Jax doesn’t have to do it and go to jail.”
This, I decide quickly, is Savage’s way of saying “I was worried” and “Thank God you’re home.”
“Thank you, Savage.” I climb inside the vehicle where a driver is already behind the wheel.
Jax doesn’t immediately join me; in fact, the door shuts while the heater blasts over the goosebumps on my skin, offering blessed relief. Of course, I know why Jax is outside, and I’m in here with a nameless driver and an impressive heater. Jax is updating Savage on all the many bombshells my brother threwour way. As angry as I am over a few of those bombshells and at Chance himself, right now, I believe he told us the truth, some of which were painful truths to share. He didn’t kill Hunter, but my mother, she might well be another story. Somehow that thought morphs into the memory of me waking up naked and knowing that a stranger undressed me and God knows what else.
I jolt with a knock on the front window and the driver gets out of the vehicle, shutting me inside alone. A moment later, Jax climbs inside with me, and the split-second of fear that he’s about to hand me another bombshell is blasted away when he pulls me into his arms, his hand on my face. “I had to do this without an audience.” His mouth closes down on mine, and with the first stroke of his tongue, there’s a waterfall of relief that washes over me. The rest of the world is shut out. I’m with Jax, and only him, folding my arms around his strong body, absorbing his warmth, his strength. Every fear, every ounce of anger, every single thing but him evaporates into how much I feel for this man. This is not just a kiss. This is coming home. To some that might be pumpkin pie, crackling fires, or the sweet smell of flowers in the garden. To me, it’s Jax. He’s the only home I’ve ever known. And God, it feels good to be home,he feelsso very good. “There are so many things I want to say to you right now,” he murmurs, reluctance in the way he parts our lips.
“Me, too, to you,” I say, curling my fingers on the strong line of his jaw. “Thank you for coming for me.”
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes a deep blue sea of emotions. “You don’teverhave to thank me for coming for you. That you think you do says so damn much about your family.” He strokes a strand of hair from my face and tilts my gaze to his. “This is how it’ssupposedto be. You need me, I’m there for you. I protect you. I will never let you feel alone again.”
His words, his passion, seep inside me and take root deep in my soul, nestling in a place that I now believe was always meantfor him. “Jax,” I whisper, so many words and emotions in that single word, in his name. “I want—so much right now.”
“Me, too. Soon, baby. Soon.” He brushes his lips over mine, a delicate caress I feel from head to toe, before he says, “Not soon enough is more like it.” He knocks on the window and both of the front doors open.
Just that quick, we have the driver and Savage in the vehicle with us, and we’re on the road. Jax pulls me close, keeping his arm around me, and I welcome the sweet warmth of his body, even more so, the heat of our connection. I catch his free hand and hold onto it. I need to hold onto him right now. I will never be alone again. I don’t think that anyone has said anything ever that impacted me the way those words did. Even more so than him telling me he loves me. Because I’ve always been alone and I didn’t realize just how bad that felt.
The ride is short and silent, street signs flying by the windows, horns honking, wind swishing around us, but I think of nothing but Jax’s body next to mine, his hand in my hand. In a matter of a few blocks, we’re at a competing hotel to the Knight brand, and I’m just fine with that. I need a break from my family right now in all possible ways. I also haven’t missed the fact that Jax didn’t ask if I wanted to go to my apartment. He knows I woke up there naked because, for God knows why, I blurted that out to Smith, who I barely know when I kept the York situation private for years.
At the front of the hotel, Savage doesn’t wait on the doorman. He is quick to exit the vehicle and open my door. Jax pulls on a leather jacket he’d left in the SUV and then I step outside into the San Francisco air. Moments later, I’m walking inside the luxurious lobby, shiny tiles beneath my feet, and a glistening chandelier as a centerpiece above my head, with Jax and Savage at my sides. My man and my bodyguard, which is a sobering thought. We still know virtually nothing that helps free us fromthe web of lies and murder consuming our lives. We don’t even know who kidnapped me or why. We don’t know if I’m a target, being taunted, or if they’re coming back for me.
Chapter one hundred seventeen
Emma
In a short elevator ride, Jax, Savage, and I arrive at the hotel suite Jax rented, and in a few more seconds, we’re all inside a luxury room. Feeling the presence of the drugs in my wobbly knees and trembling hands, I sit down on the brown leather living room couch. Jax shrugs out of his jacket and walks to the desk against the wall to my left, where he drops it on a chair and retrieves the room service menu. “We need to feed you to get the drugs out of your system,” he says, sitting on the coffee table and offering me the menu. “Let me know what to order and then we’ll talk to Savage about what can’t wait before we all get some rest.”
I’m touched by his concern and thoughtfulness, especially since I’m used to my father who once witnessed me throw up in my trashcan at work, to which he said, “Suck it up, buttercup.” I’m also lightheaded, so I certainly don’t argue on the topic of food. “I already know what I want. Mac and cheese. They make great mac and cheese here; it’s my job to scout the competing brands.”
“That’s not enough,” Jax says, and stubbornly adds, “Order more.”
I laugh, and considering the worry etching his brow, I do so without one ounce of frustration over his bossiness. “Are you trying to fatten me up?” I don’t wait for a reply. I set the menu down and shrug out of my jacket, setting it on the back of the couch. “It’s a dinner serving, and honestly, I don’t know if I can even handle anything heavy right now. I might do better to order just bread and some fruit.”
“I’ll order a few things you can try,” he says, “and you can find what works.” He stands up, walks back to the desk and grabs the phone. He then starts ordering half the kitchen.
“Jax filled me in,” Savage says, claiming the chair next to me, his expression somber. Savage isn’t really a somber guy, so I’m not sure what to make of that. “Do you believe your brother shot straight with you?” he asks.
