Page 71 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)
“It would accumulate that high, easily.” His eyes ping around the bar. “So him blowing the bank—that does matter to us.”
“He could be in danger,” Eliot says, his glimmering blue eyes shaded with worries. Is he…afraid?
“Ben’s not in danger.” He just wants to live out of the city , I want to say. In nature. I picture him on a solo adventure among dense foliage and dangerous wildlife. I’m guessing this would freak out any protective, loving family, and he’s doing his best not to trigger their concern.
“Does he need money?” Charlie questions.
Eliot observes me like Charlie, but his eyes are layered with a dark protectiveness.
I dry the clean glass. “Can’t you just ask him yourself?”
“Were you here thirty seconds ago?” Charlie rebuts. “You don’t think we’ve tried? He’ll talk circles around us and be purposefully vague. I’d rather Ben stuff aluminum foil in my ear.”
I shrug. “Maybe that’s your dynamic with him, dude. I can’t get in the middle.”
Eliot downs a strong sip. “She’s loyal.” He motions to me with the glass. “Commendable. Blink twice if Ben is penniless. We won’t tell.”
Holy shit, the urge to actually blink overpowers me, and I do blink. Twice.
Eliot holds out a hand to Charlie. “He’s broke.”
Charlie sighs, then glares up at the ceiling.
Regret assaults my insides. I am literally the worst friend. I couldn’t even stop myself from blinking.
Are you serious, Harriet? I throw the dishtowel at the taps.
“This isn’t a betrayal,” Eliot says deeply. “Look at me.”
I barely lift my burning gaze.
“He needs us. He needs you.”
I frown. “What do you think is going on?”
“He’s moved his money somewhere. A trust. Land,” Charlie theorizes. “Or he was scammed out of a large sum of cash. He’s being blackmailed?—”
“What?” I bristle.
“It’s my number one theory,” Eliot chimes in. “He’s paying off some bastard.”
Is that why he needs to leave New York before the end of the year? Is Ben being threatened? At times, he acts like he has to go. Like it’s a necessity. Against his will…? “What if he is in trouble?” I ask them.
“That’s why we’re here,” Eliot says, then points at me. “That’s why you’re here. Eyes and ears.” He motions to those organs with two fingers.
Charlie rolls his eyes at the dramatics, then tells me, “Ask Ben if he is. He’s clearly been more forthcoming with you.”
I’m not a fan of prodding Ben. I don’t like how it makes me feel. I hate how it makes him feel even more.
“Heeeeey.” Beefy Dude is back with an empty pint. No friends at his side. “My girl.”
I clutch my biceps.
Eliot extends an arm out across the bar, obstructing this dickhead from being able to careen over and reach me.
“She’s actually my brother’s girl.” He considers me Ben’s girl?
?? I can’t even fully process, not while nerves accelerate my pulse.
At six-four, Eliot towers over the dickhead. “You’re going to want to back up.”
Charlie is relaxed against the bar, barely moving a muscle, acting like a confrontation isn’t beside him. He sips his Glenfiddich.
Beefy Dude laughs, only eyeing me. Trying to unsettle me. It’s just frustrating me. Maybe Ben was right. This outcome was a high possibility. It wouldn’t have been if we’d just kicked him out in the first place.
My scowl even pains my face. “You want a beer? Fine, but I’m not getting you any liquor. And if your friends want something else, they can come up and get it.”
He coughs out a hostile sound. “You fuckin’ tiny little bitch.
” Out of nowhere, he spits at my face—but Eliot blocks me and takes the loogie to the chest. Then he sucker-punches the dickhead.
It’s the hardest hit I’ve ever heard in person.
His eyes roll back, body slackens, and he’s out.
Just a sack of flesh and bones on the floorboards.
“‘If you wrong us, shall we not revenge,’” Eliot spits on him.
The bar erupts.
Beefy Dude’s friends rush forward. The Cobalts’ bodyguards deescalate. Charlie is just watching me while he casually drinks whiskey.
I’m pinned to the shelf of liquor. Fighting the extreme instinct to flee the skirmish. To block out the commotion, I end up making myself even smaller, sliding to the floor and hugging my knees. The noise is loud. Violent.
“Harriet?”
I flinch, my spine digging into the cabinet.
“Hey, it’s me,” Ben says gently. He’s squatting in front of me, then sits, breaking his legs apart so I fit between them.
He shields me in a way. His body curves toward mine like he’s the castle walls and I’m the porcelain inside.
No one has ever treated me like this. No one has ever tried to protect me from harm.
Except him.
I hear a chair clattering. “Ben…” You were right. His gaze is tender on me, and he cups the base of my neck, feeling my rapid pulse. His palm slides down to my heart above the top of my breast. It makes me take a much-needed deeper breath.
“You know the funny thing about tornados,” he whispers, “the eye is so…very…calm.” His voice becomes a drug, lulling my body. “So among all this destruction, there is peace at the center. And it’s not hard for me to reach with you.” I ease even more. “You feel that?” he breathes.
I do. “Only with you,” I murmur softly.
His palm slides against my cheek, holding me. “Only with you,” he says back, his chest rising with breath, and I can’t even tell how long we’re on the floor. How long he just sits with me while his security detail clears the bar.
Time moves differently with Ben. Months are millenniums, only then to be tortured with the knowledge that every era has an end.
He is the Golden Age, a period of growth and springtime, where life flourishes, where nature and man are uncorrupted and good.
Ovid called it the Eternal Spring, but even the season everlasting had a final chapter.
It broke into four. Made way for harder times, for selfishness and greed.
I don’t want to move onto the Silver Age.
I’m not ready. Will I ever be ready? “Ben,” I whisper, his blue eyes already caught on mine. “Are you in trouble?”
He’s confused.
“Is someone blackmailing you?” I ask.
“No,” he whispers, peeks over his shoulder, then back at me. “My brothers think that?”
I nod, more tensed, but he never shies away from me. He’s only pulling closer. “You’re not being coerced to leave, are you? Should I be calling the cops, please tell me the truth?—?”
“I’m choosing to leave,” he interjects, but each word sounds pained in his throat. “This is my choice. No one is making it for me. No one is threatening me.”
Why does that hurt worse? Maybe because if some fuckwad were messing with him, the solution is so clear. His dad hires some hot shot lawyer, takes down the criminal, and Ben is set free.
Then he’d stay in New York with me.
He stares hard at the cupboard behind my shoulders. “Do they know I’m broke?” He glances at me. His chest collapses in a panicked, anxious breath.
I open my mouth. “I…didn’t…they just kind of got it out…and I couldn’t?—”
“It’s okay,” he says softly, full of understanding, but I can tell this is a secret he never wanted them to have. “I told you they’re relentless.” His eyes redden. “It’s part of why I love them so much.”
I try to exhale slowly. “I’m sorry?—”
“It’s not your fault. It’s okay. ” I think he’s trying to reassure himself too. “I knew my family interrogating you for answers was a possibility.”
I speak very hushed. “I didn’t tell them you’re going to the woods without me and that I’m not excited about losing my best friend.”
“You aren’t losing me.”
“You say that, Ben, but writing to you isn’t the same as you being beside me.”
He thinks this over for a few seconds, then his phone buzzes. He checks a text, and his smile begins to peek. “Well, Happy Birthday, Harriet Fisher.” His eyes brighten like a cloudless blue sky. “You’re going to the Honors Halloween party.”
“What? No way!” My voice pitches in pure shock.
He hands me his phone, and I read the personal invite from Guy Abernathy. My jaw is on the fucking floor.
“He invited me by full name,” I mutter. “He said I’m a strong candidate. Holy shit, I get a plus-one.”
Ben runs his hands up my arms. “Who you taking, Fisher?”
I love how he threads his fingers into my hair and holds my head. “I’ll have to check in with my long list of friends.”
“I better be number one.”
The only one. I can’t stop smiling.