Page 14 of Freeing Denver

“Why?” I whisper. “What’s the point?”

“He’s letting things fall apart. He isn’t working, not answering calls. Even Cal has quit.” He shakes his head, looking like that lost kid again. The one I last saw with blood on his face and a gun in his hand. “People are going to come for him if he doesn’t get back to who he is.”

My throat thickens and I turn away. It isn’t my responsibility. It’s not my place. Ranger has taken so much from me that he doesn’t deserve a moment of my time, let alone a fucking pep talk.

“Can I interrupt?” Alistair stands in the doorway and leans against the frame. “It isn’t a bad idea to go.”

“This is nothing to do with you, Alistair,” I say, frustration bleeding into my words.

“Your connection to this family is Ranger,” Alistair says. “He needs to be on board with this. He also needs to actually do hisjob. If people don’t respect him, they’ll doubt you, which means they doubt us.” I grip the mantel, my knuckles whitening as his words hit home. “As much as I hate to say it, Ranger is almost as important to this plan as you are.”

I hate that he makes sense. Ranger is my tie to the McEwans, and he’s the only reason most of the family heads will even tolerate me being in this seat without a lick of experience. They’re putting up with it because they think Ranger is pulling the strings behind the scenes, not the other way around.

“What plan?” Axel asks, looking between us.

Alistair keeps his focus entirely on me, honey eyes bright in the morning light filtering through the windows. “I’ll come with you.”

“That isn’t a comforting offer,” I say and rub my temple. “I’ll explain in the car, Axel.”

After a tense car ride and quick-fire rundown of our plan, we arrive at Ranger and Axel’s hotel. With Lewis on one side and Axel on the other, we walk through the hotel lobby where familiar security lingers in plain clothes, men protecting my husband. My own security doesn’t attempt to hide. We’re surrounded by men in suits with earpieces in, a clear message that we’re protected.

Alistair is close behind. Taf is with him, looking as menacing as always.

Intrigued onlookers track us as we reach the bank of elevators. Axel rolls his shoulders, releasing a shuddering breath.

“I haven’t missed this,” he mumbles.

I try to smile, but even I know it comes off as weak. “You’ll be home soon.”

“Will I?” he asks, looking down at me. “Because right now, I don’t think I could leave him. And I definitely don’t want to leave you.”

The elevator doors open, and some wide-eyed people exit before Lewis, Axel and I step in.

“Guess you’ll have to get the next one,” Lewis says, feigning sadness, and presses for the penthouse. Alistair meets my eyes before the doors close.

“We’ll be right behind you,” he says.

He disappears behind the metal doors, and I exhale, leaning against the mirrored glass. “Prick.”

“He didn’t take it well, then?” Lewis asks.

“What do you think?”

Axel looks bewildered. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Lewis and I say, and we’re silent the rest of the ride up.

God, I’m exhausted. Midnight murder and family rivalries really take it out of you.

My stomach twists into painful knots as the elevator doors open directly into the penthouse. It’s quiet, the curtains drawn, and Axel takes tentative steps forward. Polished floors are dulled in the darkened space, makeshift walls providing a partial hall. To the right there’s a kitchen and dining area, and to the left is a living room with two large, plush couches and doors that likely lead to bedrooms. We walk down the hall, and a bar to the right is void of alcohol. I frown as my gaze sweeps over refrigerators filled only with soda cans and bottles of water.

He's avoiding drinking.

Guilt churns alongside the anxiety, and I inhale deeply to banish the tightness in my chest, but I lose the ability to breathe at all when I hear his voice.

“Axel?” It isn’t the way he usually says his son’s name. Generally, it’s clipped and irritated, a demand to know Axel’s whereabouts or what he’s been doing. Now, the rough timbre of his voice is inquisitive.

Maybe even concerned.