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“Iknowit will upset your daughter. She stupidly loves you. And don’t pretend like you didn’t fuck your way through that bordello. I asked Lisette.”
He didn’t say anything, not that I expected him to.
Slapping my hands on my thighs, I pushed to my feet. “Well, that’s that. Best of luck in robbing the fine citizens of this city.”
He also stood, not lowering the gun for an instant. “It’s no different than what you do, Baxter.”
“True. But I’ve never claimed otherwise. I’m a villain, through and through. You pretend to be a savior, but you’re just as bad, yeah?”
His nostrils flared, but he didn’t comment on that. Instead, he said, “I won’t let you have her, even if I have to kill you to prevent it.”
A bitter bark of laughter escaped my throat. “You keep her locked in this house, isolated and alone. But you can’t control her. She has her own mind, her own goals. A word of advice? Don’t try to get in her way. Because she’ll only hate you for it.”
“I don’t need tips from you on how to raise my daughter. And a word of advice fromme? Stay away from her. If I catch you near her again, I will shoot you, Baxter.”
“You can try, Kelly, but I love her. I’m not giving up, not until she hears me out.”
The other man sneered. “Is she worth dying over?”
“Yes.”
The door flew open. I turned—and found Belle there. My body jolted, and I couldn’t look away. I drank in the sight of her, mesmerizing every detail. Her hair was pulled into a simple braid, and bare feet peeked out from under her dressing gown.
Christ, she was lovely. My fierce widow.
My chest felt hollow, like a fist was squeezing my heart. I needed to say something. I needed to beg for her forgiveness, pledge my undying love. Let her hear how goddamn sorry I was.
Just as I opened my mouth, the gun went off. All the air left my lungs as pain exploded in my body. My legs went out from under me and I was on the ground, staring at the ceiling. The last thing I saw was Belle’s panicked face. I had so much I wanted to tell her . . . then everything went black.
CHAPTER14
Isabelle
Bax wouldn’t wake up.
I hovered near his bedside, unwilling to leave. The doctor had removed the bullet two days ago, but Bax developed a fever shortly after. He’d thrashed and muttered, tortured by what sounded like childhood memories of torment and pain. My heart had ached for him as I struggled to keep him alive.
I forced water and broth down his throat. Bathed him in a cool cloth when the fever spiked, covered him when he shivered. Matty helped, but I did most of it by myself.
I would not let this man die.
Seeing my father shoot Bax in the back had been the most terrifying moment of my life. My scream brought Matty and two of Bax’s men charging into my home. My father’s face was deathly pale, like he couldn’t believe he’d actually pulled the trigger, but no one paid him any attention. Not with Bax unconscious and bleeding on the floor.
We loaded Bax into his carriage, while one of the men raced to fetch the doctor. I held Bax’s head in my lap as Matty pressed on his wound with a cloth, trying to stem the blood.
Bax’s life dangled by a thread in those next few hours, and I vowed not to leave until he was better.
Finally the fever broke, and there was nothing to do but wait. I kept myself busy by listing my grievances toward him. Even though he couldn’t hear me, it helped. I was still furious with him.
I must’ve fallen asleep because the softest brush of a fingertip across my cheek startled me awake. Where was I?
I straightened, memory rushing back. My eyes flew to his face—and I found him staring up at me. “Bax,” I breathed, my chest expanding with relief. It was so good to see his sharp gaze once more.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked.
An apology? I never thought to hear those words out of his mouth. Was he delirious? I felt his forehead. He was cool to the touch. “Please rest. You needn’t talk right now.”
He frowned and weakly gripped my hand. “I’m sorry, Belle.”
