Kidnapped by the Billionaire (36 page)

A shiver of fear ghosted over her skin, but she refused to let it get to her. She could do this, and she was going to. Helping Elijah put Jericho in the ground would be worth it. “I'll be okay,” she said firmly, as if saying it would make it so. “We're going to get this sonofabitch.”

His harsh, handsome face looked carved from stone, the scar bisecting it gone white. His eyes glittered like obsidian, sharp and hard. And she thought, just for a second, that she saw something softer in them. As if her words had touched something inside him.

Then unexpectedly he reached up, took her face between his large, warm palms and held her an instant, staring down at her. “I
will
keep you safe, princess.” The words were heavy, weighted like a vow. “I promise you this.” And before she could respond, he bent his head and kissed her.

Violet went still, waiting for the hard, hot demand of his mouth on hers.

But it didn't come. Instead he was gentle, his lips brushing hers before his tongue dipped inside to taste her, a delicate sip rather than a deep swallow. It was tantalizing, sweet, unlike any of the others he'd given her. She shuddered, opening her mouth to him, letting him take it if he wanted. But again, he didn't. He explored slowly, savoring her taste, learning her contours. His fingers were gentle, his thumbs stroking back and forth along her cheekbones. The gentleness of him made her chest ache and her throat tighten. He was so big, so strong, and so cold. And yet his touch on her was light as a butterfly's wing.

Her senses reeled, the prick of unexpected tears sharp behind her closed lids. How could he make her weep like this with just one kiss?

His hands slid over her jaw and down her neck, his thumbs now brushing the underside of her jawline. The kiss gentled even more before he lifted his mouth from hers. She was shaking, a strange, constant vibration that went deeper than an unsteady hand or wobbly legs. It felt like her entire soul was trembling. She didn't want this to end, and words of protest nearly came out. But she kept quiet at the last minute because they were in a taxi going to meet Jericho and there was no time.

The look on Elijah's face was unreadable and he didn't say a word. He kept his hands where they were for one long minute, his fingers pressing lightly against her neck as if he was memorizing its shape.

Then he took them away and turned, reaching for his phone again and looking down at the screen. As if the moment had never happened.

She leaned back against the seat, wanting to fold her arms around herself because she was pretty sure her heart was going to come out of her chest if it beat any harder. Her lips tingled, and she could taste him on her tongue. And she wished suddenly, passionately, that they were back at his apartment where she could reach out to him and pull him close again. Kiss him again. Fall back into that wide bed of his and forget the rest of the world existed.

But unfortunately it did. A brutal, harsh world, the reality of which was going to hit hard in about twenty minutes.

Elijah muttered curses beside her, then leaned forward to urge the cabbie to drive faster.

“We should have taken the subway,” she murmured, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Too late now,” he said shortly.

The rest of the trip was silent, the cabdriver doing his level best to speed up the journey.

They got there with minutes to spare.

Elijah tossed the driver some cash while Violet got out, looking around nervously. He joined her a second or two later, once again putting his arm around her as if he couldn't bear not to touch her.

“Remember.” His voice was quiet. “Do what I say, okay?”

“I remember.” She swallowed, forcing down her fear.

They crossed the street and headed into the park, joining the crowds of people taking advantage of the nice, late-winter weather to enjoy the sun and sparkling blue of the river. Tourists and sightseers of all nationalities, joggers, people out walking their dogs, and office workers on a break having a stroll or heading somewhere.

All the people around calmed Violet somewhat, which was stupid. Just because there were a lot of people around didn't make this whole thing any less dangerous.

“Why here?” she murmured as she and Elijah walked toward the Esplanade. “It's very public.”

“That was the point.” He wasn't looking at her, his gaze focused on where they were going, his whole posture radiating leashed tension, as if ready to explode into movement at the slightest provocation. “We're less likely to get shot in a crowd.”

“But that makes killing him slightly problematic, don't you think?”

“Yes. But I wasn't really concerned about that.”

Violet glanced at him. His face was set, hard, menace radiating from him like heat from a desert road. “What do you mean you weren't concerned about that? Shooting a person in broad daylight usually results in a murder charge.”

He lifted his shoulder. “Like I said, that didn't concern me.”

Shock coursed down her spine. “What? You'd go to jail?”

“Killing Jericho may mean I end up with a death sentence anyway. Jail or death, either doesn't worry me. Or at least, it didn't.”

She couldn't stop staring at him, a terrible clenching feeling in her chest. “You were going to sacrifice yourself?”

“Call it what you like, Jericho dead was the whole point. My life didn't matter.”

No. He was wrong. He was
so
wrong. “Elijah—”

“But things have changed,” he interrupted before she could protest. “If your father's empire is going to be taken down, someone has to take control of it, and logically that person is me. And I can't do that if I'm dead or in jail.”

It should have been some comfort that he wasn't going to throw his life away, and yet it wasn't. Instead a great feeling of sadness sat like a boulder in the center of her chest, weighing her down. Was this really how he wanted his life to go? An endless revenge quest for the wife he'd lost years ago?

It made those tears rise again, clogging in her throat, that aching sadness getting heavier and heavier. Sadness for him and for what he'd lost. For what his life had become. For what his life would be after this was all over. Because if he was going to take down what her father had created, then there would be no peace for him. No rest.

“You can't,” she said before she could think better of it. “Elijah, when is it going to stop?”

“When is what going to stop?”

They'd come out onto the Esplanade now, the glittering blue of the river in front of them, the skyscrapers behind. He was scanning around at the crowds of people moving up and down the walkway, or standing to look at the view, or sitting on the benches lining the riverside.

“This need for revenge.”

He stilled all of a sudden and his sharp-edged gaze came to rest on her. For a moment the walls behind his eyes dropped away and she could finally see the grief and rage that burned inside. The fuel he'd used to burn away the man he'd once been.

“Never,” he said softly, almost gently. “It will never stop.”

Violet couldn't speak, her throat locking up entirely, the sadness crushing, and she didn't know why.

Of course you know why. You haven't just fallen for him. You're in love with him.

Oh excellent. She'd fallen in love with her captor. A man who had revenge running through his veins instead of blood. A man who would destroy himself pursuing it because he could not let the past go.

Like you're any better yourself.

Hell, she knew that. Constantly moving, constantly flitting from one thing to another, pursuing academia because she had to fill the hole inside with something. A hole that had only gotten wider now that she'd found out about her father. Who knew how long it would take her to put that behind her? And apart from any of that, hadn't she come here with Elijah for revenge herself?

He'd glanced away from her, tugging her closer. Putting his phone in his pocket, he drew her over to the edge of the walkway closest to the river, where a wooden railing stood between the walkway and the river's edge.

There were a couple of tourists beside them, looking at the view and pointing out various landmarks on a map they held between them. On a bench not far away was a man in a tan overcoat, reading a paper, a young couple beside him laughing and talking.

It was a beautiful day and it felt like all of New York was out here enjoying it.

A normal day.

She watched the crowd move past, feeling battered by the emotions tangling themselves up inside her. Grief for Elijah. Hurt for him too. Fear of what was going to happen, both to herself and to him. There would be no good outcomes, would there?

“Good morning, Mr. Hunt.” The voice was light, male, accented.

Violet turned and saw that an older man in a black coat had appeared out of the crowds and was now standing beside Elijah, his arms resting casually on the wooden railing. He was of average height, nondescript, his narrow, sharp face directed toward the view in front of them.

She stared at him. Holy shit, was this Jericho? Europe's shadiest crime lord? Jesus, he looked like someone's bachelor uncle.

“Jericho, I presume?” Elijah's tone was arctic. He'd changed his grip on her, his fingers now tight around her upper arm as if holding her there to prevent her escape.

“Yes,” the man said. “That is one of my names.”

Elijah had turned around so his back was to the railing, looking at the crowds moving along the walkway. “Prove it.”

The man laughed. “Tiresome of you. Why should I?”

“Because I'm not giving Miss Fitzgerald to any random prick.”

The man was smiling, his attention on the water in front of him. “In that case you have my word.”

“Your word?” Scorn dripped from Elijah's voice. “I don't give a shit about your word. Not when you've broken it once already.”

“Ah. You're annoyed I changed the meeting time.” Jericho shifted against the railings. “Really, Mr. Hunt, did you expect me to obey all your commands like a good little dog? I'm not that kind of man.”

“I don't care what kind of man you are. If I asked for a personal meeting with Jericho, then I expect a personal meeting with Jericho.”

The man turned to look at Elijah. He was smiling pleasantly, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Let's move all this posturing along, shall we? Firstly, I don't like surprises, and learning of Fitzgerald's death was a surprise I didn't need. Secondly, I assume the reason you contacted me in the first place is that you've decided you're taking over your boss's operations and want the same trade concessions he asked for in exchange for the woman.”

Elijah didn't speak, letting the silence sit there in a way that was familiar to Violet.

She supposed she should be appearing scared and trying to pull away to make sure she looked like Elijah's unwilling captive. It wouldn't take much since she was definitely quite scared already. And yet there was something off here, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Jericho hadn't even looked at her, not once. Strange when such a secretive man was willing to meet with Elijah just so he could get his hands on her.

“The strong silent type, I see,” Jericho went on when Elijah remained quiet. “Useful in an employee. Except you don't seem the kind who follows orders well, Mr. Hunt.”

Elijah shifted and Violet felt herself pulled slightly in front of him, so she stood between him and Jericho. This time, the man glanced at her and then away again, completely without reaction.

“I told you I wanted to meet with you alone,” Elijah said coldly.

Violet blinked, surreptitiously scanning the area. She hadn't noticed anyone but the general public.

Jericho lifted a shoulder. “You can't expect me to come without some sort of protection.”

“Send them the fuck away.”

Jericho lifted a brow. “You're in no position to make demands.”

Elijah moved again and Violet felt something cold and hard pressing into her side. She stiffened, her heartbeat suddenly veering out of control. It was Elijah's gun.

“Send them away or I'll shoot her.” Elijah's voice was flat and uninflected, terrifying.

Do you trust me, Violet?

He wouldn't shoot her, he wouldn't. She did trust him.

Jericho frowned. “That seems … drastic.”

“You think I won't? She's nothing to me.”

Violet knew he wouldn't harm her and yet fear threaded its way through her bloodstream all the same. Turned out acting the part of frightened captive wasn't so difficult after all.

“If she dies, you won't get your trading concessions,” Jericho pointed out.

“Then I guess it all depends on how badly you want her.” Elijah pressed the gun harder against her. “Make a decision, prick. You have five seconds.”

This was a bluff. That's all it was.

What if it isn't? What if you're not worth more than his revenge?

No, she couldn't think that. He'd promised her she'd be safe and she believed him.

Jericho was silent for what seemed like far longer than five seconds. Then he sighed. “Very well, if it'll make you happier.” He straightened and made a flicking gesture with his hand. Instantly the tourists leaning against the railings moved away, as did a man taking pictures off to their left and the man in the overcoat on the bench.

Violet shivered. They'd been surrounded and she hadn't seen a thing.

“Now, shall we get to the point?” Jericho sounded bored. “The woman comes with me.”

Elijah's hand tightened on her upper arm, his body a warm, strong presence at her back. “Come and get her then.”

A crowd of rowdy teenagers obviously out on a school trip was coming closer, shouts and catcalls echoing in the air.