Page 16 of The Allure of Ruins

“Holy crap.” Colton was both stunned and impressed.

“You microwaved the phones,” Calhoun said with a grin. “Is that right?”

“I didn’t want him to be able to track anyone.”

“The computer hard drive at the bottom of the pool was a nice touch, though all the things that went in as well was a bit overkill.”

So much furniture, practically all the appliances, the TV from the living room, glassware and all the plates, bowls, and so many bottles of liquor.

“I didn’t do any of that. It’s kind of a blur, though. I remember being frantic and wanting to go, but I guess while I was destroying specific things, the others went wild.”

“You sound pleased,” Colton said.

“I am. That’s a lot of therapy right there.”

“You’re not wrong.” Colton choked on a laugh. “I love how the fish tank is pristine.”

“Not surprising. I hope they got a good home.”

“I’m certain the tank and fish were removed by a service,” Calhoun apprised me.

“When we seize property, everything is calculated down to the penny. That’s what forensic accountants are for, to not miss anything.

Like, there’s a fortune in art in this house, and again, no one touched any of that or the cars. ”

“A lot of those pieces got me through some hard times,” I told him. “When things are happening to your body, you can disassociate, and it helps to have something to focus on, especially something beautiful. Not that I would ever want to see any of them ever again for as long as I live.”

“Well, I understand why you and the others went a bit scorched earth on this place.”

“And in such a short time,” I commented, because really, it was impressive.

Interesting to see the decimation of the kitchen, and then, in Gen’s office, the amount of paperwork, the open safe, and the safe behind it, the gold bars on display.

The number of kilos of cocaine in the gun safe was also impressive.

The rooms with locks on the outside were hard to see again, and the media room downstairs, where he could watch everything, as well as the over-the-top sex dungeon that I had missed being defaced.

“I’m sure it looks better destroyed than it did before,” Colton granted.

Yes, it did. Without question. So strange to think of myself living there, and worse, choosing that life. I had been so desperate to be loved and cherished that I accepted how I was treated, wagging my tail even as I was being tortured.

“Is that Antonov?” I heard Colton ask, and when I checked the tablet, realizing I’d been lost in my memories for a moment, there he was, the man who used to haunt my dreams, not allowing me to sleep, being walked out of his home in handcuffs by FBI agents. It was an amazing picture.

“Thank you so much,” I said, standing and offering Calhoun my hand. “I really appreciate your letting me have those images in my head instead of old ones.”

He stood up and took my hand. “You’re very welcome.”

“What’s going to happen with protection for Pax?” Colton asked.

“I’ve notified the Chicago PD, and they’ll have a patrol car in front of your place after five for the next month, and all day every weekend.”

“That makes sense. During the day I’m at work. I’m safe there.”

“Not his place, though,” Colton informed Calhoun. “At my place in Bucktown, that’s where he’ll be. His apartment is in an unsecured building near a not-so-great area. The cops would be too busy with other emergencies to watch out for him.”

“Then let’s do this. I’ll send some agents with you, you pack him up, and then they’ll escort you both to your place so we’ll know precisely where that is, as well as the layout.”

“That sounds great, thank you.”

As Calhoun walked to his desk to use his phone, I rounded on Colton. “Hello, do I have a say in any of this?”

The flick on my forehead was both painful and unexpected. Putting my hand over where it hurt, I tried to rub the sting away even as I glared at Colton. “Ow,” I grumbled.

“This is not up for debate, so I need you not to argue for once in your life.”

“I never argue with you unless you’re wrong.”

He flicked my ear that time.

“That really hurts!” I muttered instead of yelling, not wanting to make a scene in front of SAC Calhoun since he’d been so nice to us. I rubbed my ear, though.

“Gimme a break,” he warned me.

I took a step sideways, and he, of course, grabbed my bicep and yanked me right back.

I rolled my eyes and stood there trying to wait patiently for Calhoun, before he called over to Colton to give him his address for CPD.

Funny that right then I was reminded of a conversation with one of his friends from two years ago.

While he was at a party, I had brought him some papers that had to be signed and scanned in so they could be filed before our midnight deadline with family court.

Since it was the middle of summer, everything was outside on the enormous deck, so the hostess, his friend’s wife, had led me into the kitchen, where I could use the table to get everything ready for him.

“Excuse me,” a woman said, taking a seat beside me, smiling. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Certainly.”

She put her hand on her chest. “I’m Gwen Evans, and you’re Paxton, aren’t you? I’ve spoken to you on the phone.”

“Oh yes, very nice to put a face to the voice.”

Taking a breath, she said, “I have a quick question, and I have no one else to ask, but it might be a bit awkward.”

Great. “Sure.”

“Have you ever had an issue with Colton ever hurting you, and if so, did you mention it to him?”

I could not have stopped my scowl if I tried. My hackles went up, my whole body instantly bristling.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Never?—”

“Oh, Gwen,” the hostess said, chuckling as she took a seat at the end of the table, having brought me a bottle of water. “What did you say to Colton’s darling assistant?”

“Nothing, I?—”

“I’m kidding, I heard.” The hostess reached over the papers and took her hand. “Paxton?”

I turned to her.

“I’m Sophie, by the way.”

“Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

“You’re so welcome, and I’d love for you to get yourself a plate, we have so much, but to the topic.

You know, and I know, that when Colton likes you, he forgets about his own strength sometimes.

I made the mistake years ago of using the words too rough when I spoke to him and asked him if he could be a bit gentler with me. ”

“You did?” Gwen asked her. “Oh my God, I should have just asked you, but I had no idea you?—”

“He has never hugged me since.”

Gwen’s breath caught.

“I mean, he’ll lean in, give me a pat, but then back up so fast, it’s enough to give me whiplash.

And now, of course, with Brian being born, when he’s here, Paul always gives him the baby, and a more gentle, careful, considerate man, you could not ask for.

He’s the same with my nieces and other kids.

Omar and Suzie, their daughter, Stephanie, whenever she’s throwing a tantrum, Suzie picks her up and takes her to Colton.

Kids—all kids—love him. My dogs too. Even my super annoying cat loves Colton.

He’s actually outside, right now, walking Brian through our backyard, navigating around dog crap—so embarrassing—to get him to burp. ”

“Why are you?—”

“He roughhouses with Paul, he’s careful with Brian, and he thought I was like Suzie, and he could grab me and hug me and hold my hand, but now, because I said something, he doesn’t trust himself to be mindful, so that’s it.

And I hate that it’s all or nothing with him, but I also get it.

I said something, and he has changed around me so I never feel uncomfortable again. ”

Gwen looked stricken.

“Did you say something to him?”

“I told him I didn’t like to be manhandled, and now, suddenly, he’s busy with work.”

“He is busy at work,” I defended him.

“Yes, but he used to make time for me.”

What was I supposed to say? “If you didn’t like how he touched you, it was important to say something. No one should be uncomfortable; that’s your right. Also, everyone has a different threshold for what they consider manhandling, and again, it’s about your comfort level, not his.”

I turned in my seat to Sophie then.

“Oh,” she said, grinning, “this must be serious. Yes?”

“Are you serious?” I asked her. “Does he mean something to you?”

She took a breath. “I didn’t mean to be flip or?—”

I squinted at her.

“Sorry,” she said, coughing, “really. I didn’t mean to belittle your?—”

“Does he,” I repeated, my gaze locked with hers, “mean something to you?”

“Yes. Yes, he does,” she answered, all levity gone from her voice.

“Okay, then. You have to tackle him.”

“Pardon me?” The gleam in her bright green eyes was very appealing.

“If you want the connection back, I suggest you walk right up, tackle him, like put him on his ass or his back and smush him, and as he’s sputtering—which he does when he’s surprised—then, while touching him, as he’s very tactile, so the physical contact is important, then you tell him you want him exactly how he is and you love him. ”

Her eyes went round.

“And what that should accomplish is over the course of a few weeks, you’ll get the hugging back.

He’ll still be careful, but one day, in the not-so-distant future, he’ll trust that he can be himself, and you’ll get the spontaneous affection back.

It will still be different because you have a child now, and you’ve moved from his buddy to a mom, so with that comes inherent gentleness.

He’s like that with his sister now as well. That might really suit you.”

“I suspect you’re right.”

“But really, do what I say. I know him.”

“I would say yes, you certainly do.”

“Good.”

Sophie took a breath, and there were tears in her eyes before she lunged at me, arms around my neck as I laughed and she squeezed the stuffing out of me.

“Why are you mauling my assistant? I think you should—Sophie!”

She had moved fast, letting go of me and launching herself at him.

Because the angle was weird, she threw him off-balance, and the two of them got tangled up and fell together onto the kitchen floor.

She came down on top of him hard, which was much better than him falling on her, because at six-two, with all the carved muscle on his frame, the man was heavy.

“The hell are you doing, woman?” he rasped.

She laughed, ended up snorting a bit, and when I saw his look of surprise and the slight smile, I knew she had him.

Gwen, on the other hand, I was guessing was done.

A friend, he could reverse how he acted.

An intimate partner who thought he was too rough—he would internalize that and never be able to let that go.

I didn’t need to be a therapist to know that was not going to work.

But again, nothing against Gwen. Everyone deserved to be treated how they wanted.

I knew how it was for me. I had been worshipped and then hit hard with a closed fist. There was a difference between Gen nearly yanking my arm off and Colton tugging on my hand to make sure I was following him.

With Colton, I had always known, from the beginning, how he felt about me, because he communicated that through touch.

That absolutely worked for me, but I was guessing, with how Calhoun was staring at the moment, that to them, it was weird.

The takeaway was, I didn’t need to give a crap about that.

Colton and I knew, and the two of us were the only ones who mattered.

“All right,” Calhoun said, “you two can get out of here and maybe get a late dinner.”

“Dinner,” I whimpered.

Calhoun chuckled and held out his card to Colton.

“I’m so sorry about what happened with Hall.

Know that you’re safe with the agents here in my office, and please let me know if you see or hear anything from Antonov.

My hope is this situation tonight will scare him into leaving, but you never know. ”

“I will keep you in the loop, and we both appreciate all you’ve done.”

He nodded, smiled, and then an agent stepped into his office and we were escorted out of the building. It was so nice to be leaving, even better to have Colton take my hand. I found myself liking that more than I thought I would.