Page 53

DENVER

What Sullivan needs me for takes me away for the entire evening and late into the next day. But the slimy fucker who crossed this woman Sullivan seems intent on helping won’t be a problem to her anymore. Not unless he really doesn’t value his pathetic existence.

It’s already ten p.m. when I’m riding the elevator up to Sinclair’s place, and I’m as unstable as a nuclear fucking warhead from being apart from her for so long.

I smirk. I never thought I’d turn into one of those sappy fuckers, pining for their girl.

It’s something I used to rib Rick about all the time.

But truth be told, I was always envious of the relationship he had with Lizzie.

It would have been nice to have had a girl waiting for me at home. Missing me. Writing to me. Loving me.

Sullivan and I were in an area with bad signal. And Sinclair hasn’t replied to the text I managed to get delivered, or if she did, the shit service meant it never came through.

The lack of contact with her has meant I’ve been losing my fucking mind.

I open up the tracking app on my phone. Monty’s location puts him with Sterling and Halliday. But Sinclair’s puts her at her place. Why would she be home without Monty?

I don’t have time to consider the reason, because the second I stride out of the elevator, my senses heighten, jumping to full alert mode.

The hallway leading to Sinclair’s door is pumping with a deep bass.

Her front door is vibrating with the volume of the music. Laughter spills out, along with it.

She’s having a fucking party?

I know I’m not assigned to her anymore, but did she not learn a damn thing from our time together?

Me, Killian, and Jenson have all been busy.

She shouldn’t be having a fucking party without at least one of us here to keep an eye on things.

And in her own damn apartment? Anyone could plant a device.

Her private conversations would be splashed all over the press.

Damn it, a secret camera could already be in her fucking bathroom, primed and ready for some creep to jerk off to her in the shower.

I wrench open the door, anger sparking inside me like a lit fuse. She didn’t lock it, let alone bolt the damn thing. Any sick bastard could be in here under the guise of a partygoer.

Heat hits me as the scent of warm bodies and liquor spills out in a cloud.

“Jesus,” I grit.

The inside is a sea of writhing bodies, dancing to the pounding music. All the shades have been closed and it resembles an underground rave club. There’s even a professional DJ station set up with a row of glaring lights. A red one circles the room, lighting up the throng of people.

Bur none are Sinclair.

“Sinclair?” I yell, stomping in. I’m going to spank that perfect ass of hers for putting herself at risk like this. “Sinclair!”

My voice is lost to the music as I push my way into the crowd.

“Hey, Handsome,” a girl coos, wiping her hair back from her clammy forehead. She gives me a tipsy smile as she pushes her tits against me and tries to entice me to dance.

“Where is she?” I growl.

The girl pouts up at me. “Who?”

“Sinclair. The woman whose place this is.”

“Oh…” She tilts her head with a flirty smile as she snakes her arms around my neck. “Last time I saw her, she was going into one of the bedrooms with a guy. I’m sure there’s another one we can talk in, if you don’t fancy dancing?”

I pull her arms off me and place them by her sides. She throws me a look of disappointment as I step away.

I don’t bother trying to weave through the crowd, I plow right through it.

My shirt clings to my back as sweat beads run down my back. It’s a fucking spectacle in here. What the hell was she thinking?

“Get the fuck out of my way!” I bark at anyone who doesn’t have the sense to move before I crash into them.

They part in a wave, immediately swallowing up the gap behind me as I move forward.

“Denver!”

I snap my head to the side and meet Zoey’s wide eyes. She moves, positioning herself between me and the hallway that leads to Sinclair’s bedroom.

“Where is she, Zoey?”

She flinches at the venom spilling from my voice, her eyes widening as the beat changes and a strobe light turns on. There’s a collective whoop from the hundreds of people squashed into the living area.

“Um…” Zoey’s eyes dart around like she’s looking for someone to help her.

But I already know where Sinclair is. Her best friend wouldn’t be standing here, in my way, if I wasn’t about to walk right into whatever shit Sinclair’s trying to pull.

“You don’t want to go back there, Denver.”

I glance down at Zoey’s hand that’s appeared on my chest, a token attempt at holding me back.

“Move your hand, and step aside,” I say calmly.

“Denver,” she pleads. “She’s not… she’s… trust me, please. Now isn’t the time. Come back tomorrow. Talk to her. You can work this out, I know you can. She’s… she’s not in a good place tonight.”

I level my eyes with her frantic ones, and she shakes her head, screwing her face up and turning away. Her hand drops from my chest, and I slide past her.

“Thank you,” I say.

I pause for a nano second at Sinclair’s bedroom door, dragging in a deep breath.

Then I boot the fucking door in.

“Fuck!” A body shoots up from beneath the covers of her bed. “What the hell, man? This room’s taken.”

I freeze.

Brad Garrett-Charles stares back at me, shirtless.

Blonde hair flows across the pillow behind him where he tries to position his body so I can’t see her.

“Move!” I bark, stepping closer.

He scrambles up and slams back against the headboard, eyeing me like I might rip his head off. But all I care about right now is seeing who’s lying next to him.

She sits up, swaying a little and the sheet drops to her waist, exposing the oversized T-shirt she’s wearing. Her hand goes to her face clumsily and she pushes her hair back from her face.

Ice slithers up my spine and my heart ceases to beat.

“Sinclair?” I whisper.

Round green eyes anchor themselves to mine and for a second she just stares at me with her mouth open. Her makeup is smudged, and there’s a glassiness to her gaze as she tries to focus on me.

“D-Denver.”

She pulls the sheet up, trying to cover herself.

Trying to hide from me.

“Did you get her drunk? What the fuck did you do to her?” I roar, advancing on Brad and hauling him out of the bed with a merciless hand around his neck.

He’s still wearing his underwear, thank god. But the hardness of his pathetic cock nudges against my thigh as I crush his windpipe.

“No!” Sinclair stumbles from the bed. “Denver, stop! You’ll kill him.”

“He deserves to die if he touched you,” I snarl as Brad’s eyes roll in his head.

“He didn’t do anything! I asked him to come in here with me!”

Her cried words as she tries to prise me off him have me whipping my eyes to hers.

“What?”

“Please, let him go.” She pulls at my hands.

I toss Brad to the side like trash, and he falls to the floor, curling into a ball on his side, wheezing.

“What the fuck do you mean?”

She gasps as I turn to her, my eyes dropping over her body. The T-shirt is huge and comes to her knees, swamping her. I can’t tell whether she has underwear on beneath it.

“It was my idea for us to come back here,” she says.

Her eyes have a liquor-induced sheen to them.

She licks her lips, the scent of something strong, like whiskey, hitting my nostrils as she breathes.

“I’m not drunk, before you say anything,” she slurs.

“Not enough to not know what I’m doing.” She wraps her arms around herself, making her look tiny in the ridiculous T-shirt.

I scowl at it, wondering if it’s Brad’s.

But the thing is huge. No way would he fill that out.

“And what exactly the fuck are you doing?” I hiss.

Her pulse is firing rapidly in her neck as she swallows. But she doesn’t move back to give herself more space. Her eyes flick up to mine beneath her lashes, guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Denver. I just needed to know,” she whispers.

“You never forget your first,” Brad pipes up as he staggers to his feet behind me. “Isn’t that what you told me, Sin?”

She winces, tears filling her lower lids as I pin my eyes to hers, searching for the truth.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, the tears spilling free as she blinks.

We stare at one another as Brad’s voice takes on a cocky arrogance. “She tried you out, Buddy. But we both know a supermodel isn’t going to run off into the sunset with a bodyguard.” He snorts like the idea is absurd. “She’s way out of your league.”

I ignore him, giving every cell of my body over to focusing on Sinclair. “You chose to do this with him?”

Her chest shakes as more tears spill from her eyes. She rubs at them, smearing mascara across her skin.

“Tell me you didn’t, Sinclair,” I say, my voice a choked breath as I struggle not to break apart in front of her. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I…” She clamps a hand over her mouth as a sob shakes her. “I can’t.”

“How the fuck could you? After everything,” I say, not caring if I sound weak. Not caring about a fucking thing anymore.

Except the truth.

She cries harder and lifts a trembling hand to reach for me. But her outstretched fingers curl into her palm and she lowers it before she touches me.

“It counted,” she whispers so quietly that I have to strain to hear her.

Blood rushes in my ears, my teeth clenching until my jaw feels like it might snap. “It what?”

“That first time with Brad…” She swallows, wincing like she’s in pain. “It… it counted.”

All sense of control abandons me.

It fucking counted?

“It is yours. You were my first, Denver.”

“I fucking love you!” I shout.

I can’t make out her eyes anymore. They are two swollen patches of black as she sobs.

“I know. And I’m so sorry… I… love?—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” I snap, making her cry harder. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

I drag in a breath that makes my lungs feel like they’re filling with shards of broken glass. She stands in front of me shaking, and it takes everything in me not to wrap my arms around her as I witness her distress. As it breaks me apart like a bomb went off inside my chest.

“Tell me nothing happened,” I whisper.

She shakes her head.

“Princess?” I choke. “Tell me the truth .”

“I…” She starts, then has to stop to compose herself. But she can’t stop herself from shaking as she looks up at me. “We were fun, Denver. And for a while, I really believed we could be happy… I…” She swallows, her lower lip wobbling before she pulls it into her mouth. “I…”

“Don’t,” I rasp. “You have a choice. Don’t make the wrong one.”

“I’m so sorry.” She turns her face like she can’t bear to look at me anymore. “You should go.”

Despite myself, I take a step toward her.

She sucks in a sharp breath and steps backward, away from me, creating a distance between us. “You should go.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I realize my mistake the moment the words leave my mouth. Everyone tells her what to do. She hates having her choices taken from her.

But she’s chosen this? She’s really fucking chosen this ?

She squares her shoulders like she’s pulling together every ounce of strength she has. “I know what I mean! Don’t tell me I don’t. This is what I want, and you aren’t listening. You said you’d train me on how to get out of situations I don’t want to be in.”

I stare at her, silently begging her with my eyes not to do it. Because if she does, that’s it. I’ll have no choice.

“This thing we got into together is one of them, Denver.”

She looks me straight in the eye as she lines up her kill shot.

Her lips part and her whisper carries one word that shatters my entire soul, tearing us so far apart that we’re no longer existing in the same universe.

“Mitt.”