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swoon hard

Ayla

We dropped Eleanor off at our house, settling her in with Cian after letting her burn some energy in the backyard.

She was ready to explode when we arrived at Cian’s.

No telling how long she’d been without a bathroom break, but she was a good girl and held it, that is, until we got outside and she let the floodgates open.

I grabbed her kibble while Christian figured out how to break down her crate. Spoiler alert—he didn’t, so he shoved it into the trunk and came back for her toy box.

My husband made me fall in love with him all over again.

He didn’t assume we could just pop in and let her out.

He didn’t act like she could stay with us just long enough for Cian to get better.

He, in essence, moved her in with us until such a time as her dad is ready to take her home.

Christian, loving me well by being kind to Eleanor, made me swoon hard.

Then he took me back to Porter.

I smuggled coffee in for Fitz, along with a take-out container of breakfast. It was already noon when I got there, but we only ever had one meal together, that breakfast in Estes Park, so it was all I knew he liked.

And I wasn’t wrong. He scarfed it down. He didn’t say much, but the empty plate and empty coffee mug said what I needed them to.

Before I leave, I apologize again. “I’m sorry, Fitz.

I can’t even tell you how sorry I am you were shot.

” Tears well in my eyes and I fight them back.

“I should’ve listened when you told me to get in the safe room.

You were right to ask. And I was wrong for questioning you.

And this—” I look down at the larger-than-life man who’s in a bed after having coded during surgery yesterday.

“This is my fault. I own it. I’ll do better. ”

He sticks a fist up. Does he want me to bump it?

One of my eyebrows hikes, and I stare at his fist. Okay then. I bump fists with him. “It can’t be as easy as that. “

“It is, Ayla.”

I had already left the room when it dawned on me that he hadn’t called me Mrs. Barone. He’d called me Ayla.

I’ll take that. It may be a little victory, but I need all the W s in the win column I can get.

Especially now.

That’s because I’m sitting at my father’s bedside while police stand watch outside his door. I don’t care if he wants me here or not. I have questions I need to have answered, and I have the ultimate noose to hold around his neck.

“Dad?”

He looks like absolute dogshit. He stirs and opens his eyes. They go wide in fear before he schools his features. He’s a terrible bluffer. I must get it from him. But I’m channeling all I’ve got for this ruse to work.

“I have questions about yesterday and everything that went down.”

“Not now, Ayla. Can’t you see that I’m not okay?”

“Now, Dad. This isn’t up for debate. I need to know why those men came after me.”

His face reddens and I swear he could pop a blood vessel in his forehead if they weren’t already broken from the fists used on him. “I don’t know.”

I move the push button for his pain meds out of his reach. “Try again. That was the second time. Am I right? Or was it the third?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The night Christian was shot. ”

“Yeah, that was them. As if I gave a shit if something happened to that man.”

That wasn’t what I was asking, but it’s one more answer.

“And they came back for me that night too? Disabled our security system and tried to get me.”

His gaze comes to mine. “Your brother should’ve known it was a vulnerability. He always did half-ass work.”

Breathe. Don’t react. “The men, Dad? Why did they come back for me?”

“They thought if they kidnapped you, I’d pay up.”

“Thought or knew?”

He scoffs before moaning and reaching to rub his chest. He must think better of it because he lets his hand drop and looks back to the pain med pump.

His eyes gauge me, and he knows I know. No need in beating that dead horse.

“Are there any more out there I should be worried about?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Oh, you care. You should answer.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if you don’t answer every question I have, Mom’s participation in the PLS trial is gone. We have proof that her documentation request and recommendation for the trial were forged. Christian is heading there now to discuss. So, yeah. You care and you will answer.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” I hold his eyes and channel my inner bitch hoping against hope that I’m selling this bullshit story in a convincing way.

“C-Bar was a company I incorporated that I planned would take the fall if shit went south. You put money in from your joint account so Janie could get medicine or have additional care when necessary. You stopped making deposits when you fell for that man’s bullshit. Your mother suffered. The end.”

“And the Laotian nationals?”

“They said they wanted to attract business to the country and thought that having a presence here would help other investors see the legitimacy of their business ventures. In reality, they wanted a couple of buildings for whatever they were smuggling in or out of the country.”

“What were they smuggling?”

“Again, I don’t care. They paid. I accepted. It was fine.”

“Until they stopped paying and wanted their investment capital back?” I’m making this up on the fly but either I’m right or he’ll spill.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you care about Mom and you care about money, not always in that order. The only thing that would bother you about smugglers would be if they wanted something from you. And they wouldn’t want Mom, so money is the other option.”

He stares at me, anger bubbling visibly in his features.

“So they shot Christian, thinking that would motivate you, and figured they’d kidnap me for good measure. They failed the first time, but managed to do it yesterday. What happened in the meantime?”

He says nothing.

I’m pushing my luck, but I don’t give a shit. I need these answers. I want fucking iced tea on my front porch in Aspen and I don’t want to drink it while wearing Kevlar.

“Did you steal their smuggled goods? Or try to cheat them in some other way?”

He goes silent.

I slide my phone from my pocket and call Christian.

“Hey, baby. How’s it going?”

“Dad doesn’t want to talk. Please tell Mr. Dohltree that I’ll sign an affidavit indicating my involvement in the forgery at my father’s coercion.”

“Is this the final nail in the coffin? Or are you bluffing and at your wits’ end?”

“I can’t believe Mom agreed to go with you to confess to fraud.”

“Holy shit, you’ve taken it up a notch. Seamus is going to lose his mind.” The smile in my husband’s voice is unmistakable .

“Hang that fucking phone up right now.” Dad is irritable and turning the color of a bruised beet.

I cover the mouthpiece but not with any intent of blocking the sound. “Why? Something you need to tell me?”

He stares at my phone, and I speak into the receiver. “I need to call you back. Give me a few.”

“I gotta say, Princess, you’re making me hard with this act.”

“Love you, too, Honey.” I disconnect and drop my phone from my face, turning my attention back to my father.

“You wanted to say something?”

“They wanted their investment capital back and they wanted payment for the opium.” He looks away in complete defeat. He must love my mother, because he’s confessed to more shit than I can count. Felony shit.

“Opium?”

“The buildings needed one secure room. I didn’t have to do anything other than buy the properties and get one solid room for them.

But when they stopped paying rent, I was left with notes on buildings that weren’t finished, so they couldn’t be rented.

I couldn’t finish them with the capital already spent and I couldn’t sell when they were in that condition without short-selling in a huge way.

And the drugs were easy to move. It bought me enough capital to sell all the buildings but the one we were in yesterday. ”

“The one where they asked me to kill you, or they’d kill Ci. Let’s be specific. You put me and my brother in that situation.”

“Watch your mouth, you little brat. I’ve done more for you than you could ever imagine.”

“I’m good with not knowing anything about your “sacrifices” for me.” I throw my fingers up in quotes even knowing he can’t miss the sarcasm in my words.

“Now call off your dog and get the fuck out of here.”

“One last question, any other illegal dealings or activities I need to know about?” I hold up my phone and show him the display with the voice memo app ticking down the recording of his confession.

“You fucking bitch. ”

“This fucking bitch is no longer your concern. You are dead to me. Whether that’s here in this hospital today or twenty years from now on the side of the highway like roadkill, I won’t care. I won’t mourn. It will be any other day in my calendar.”

“Ayla!”

“If you ever come near me, my husband, my children, or my brothers, their wives, their children, or our children’s children, this recording will surface.

It will be spread to every businessman within one hundred miles, every news station, every judge.

And then we’ll determine the statute of limitations on felony drug trafficking. I’ll make sure of it.”

Without another word, I turn on my heel and leave the room. I’m halfway down the hall when I see Christian leaning on the wall, thumbs flying over his phone. I run for him and launch myself into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“He confessed to everything. It’s all over.”

“Then it seems I owe you an iced tea.”

“That you do.”