Raw Redemption Page 18

  “I don’t have time to go through every line of chicken scratch you made over the last five years. I want to know whose debts I have to call in—and you’ve got two days to give them to me. Every last one.” Caine shot forward, pointing a finger at Henrik. “You. You obviously don’t take her shit. Maybe I should have taken a page out of your book while raising her, huh?” Her father didn’t wait for an answer. “You make sure she’s working. Getting me those names and figures. If you get a sense she’s slacking off, you have my permission to shake her until the information I need falls out of her pretty little head.”

  ...

  Henrik saw everything through a filter of deep red. Ailish stormed down the hallway in front of him, putting on a show for her father, who watched from his office door, laughing at the display of spirit. Henrik could just about achieve an even gait, just about keep his fists from turning to stone at his sides. As they rounded the corner at the hallway’s end, Henrik turned and gave Caine a serious nod, letting him know Ailish wouldn’t get away with any nonsense on his watch. When he really wanted to charge the motherfucker and put him down.

  She looked so fragile, her blood-streaked sundress fluttering around her thighs in a breeze entering through the window up ahead. A window overlooking the pool. Tearing his gaze from the injured Ailish—which took a concentrated effort and a vow to fix her wound as soon as humanly possibly—Henrik took the opportunity to scan each room they passed. All available exits. Possible weak spots of Caine’s superior security system.

  Ailish stopped at the final door lining the hallway, still not looking up at him. Good. She wasn’t taking any chances. Derek had no doubt impressed the importance of maintaining cover at all times, but that didn’t stop Henrik from wanting to throttle his captain. No matter what it took, Henrik would get her out of this situation alive. If he had the same luck—throttling notwithstanding—it would be his last mission with the squad. No one put Ailish in danger’s path and maintained his loyalty. He would complete the mission, but he would do it for her.

  Henrik followed Ailish into her bedroom, holding up a finger when she opened her mouth to speak. His willpower was already maxed out, but throw her husky voice into the mix and he’d have her out of that dress before she knew what hit her. When Ailish nodded, Henrik began moving around the perimeter of the bedroom, relieved by its size. She might have been held captive inside her own home, but at least she’d had space to breathe. While discreetly checking for cameras on the ceiling, bookshelves, fire alarms, Henrik couldn’t help but register everything else. The pastel pink bedspread. Pictures on the nightstand of a young Ailish swimming in the backyard with a pretty woman, no doubt her mother. Everything in her closet had been thrown into a pile at the room’s center, probably left there after Caine had found Ailish’s hidden books.

  Wordlessly, she picked up an armful of discarded clothes and disappeared into the closet. It took Henrik a few more minutes to ascertain the lack of cameras before he joined Ailish in the unlit closet where she stood on her toes, stowing a stack of clothes on the upper shelf. When his body blocked the muted light shining in from the bedroom, she turned. Waiting. Fingers picking at the hem of her bloody dress. Until that moment, he’d managed to keep the reality of their situation at bay, but now the fear streaked across his sky like jagged lightning—and he went for his girl. Went for her like a man who’d been robbed of sanity.

  Just before he reached Ailish, he somehow remembered to hold a finger to his lips—quiet, baby—and attempted to sweep her up into a hug.

  She dodged him. Feinted to the left to avoid his embrace. And his senses were immediately confused. His lungs were full of summer scent, but he couldn’t feel her. Couldn’t see his smiling Ailish in her closed-off expression. There was no mistaking the betrayal swimming in her hazel eyes. Or the fact that she’d withdrawn from him. “I had to cut you out.” His whisper felt harsh leaving his throat. “You don’t know how far I would go to keep you from being hurt.”

  “Yes, I do.” She stepped back even farther, dislodging his heart. But there was awareness in her demeanor that hadn’t been there before. “I do know. I know…everything.”

  The evidence. She knows about the evidence I destroyed. A multitude of reactions speared into Henrik at once. Relief that Ailish finally knew about his sacrifice. He no longer had to downplay his instantaneous devotion to her, to keeping her out of prison. A place she could never belong in a million damn years. But there was also royal fucking rage. She’d been coerced into aiding him in the mission. “Derek shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “No, Derek shouldn’t have. You should have.” Energy snapped in the air between them. “You made a major decision for my life, dictating it with your actions—and I’m not going to pretend I’m not grateful, because being free is better. Better than I ever thought it could be—”

  “Ailish.” The way her voice cracked almost dropped him to a kneeling position. “I don’t need you to be grateful, I just need you alive and safe.”

  She squared her shoulders. “What about what I need?” For a moment, she stared off into the bedroom, memories almost visible as they played inside her head. “When you gave me this necklace, you said you’d never let me be locked away again. But that’s exactly how I felt when you abandoned me last night.”

  His equilibrium dipped under the assault of her softly spoken words. “No. No, that’s the opposite of what I wanted.”

  When she looked up at him again, her eyes were wet and luminous. “We were supposed to be on the same side and you shut me out. It wasn’t the first time, either. Or the second time. You moved me around like a chess pawn, and I didn’t even get a say.” She traced a finger down the bloodstain on her dress. “So you don’t get a say in me being here. Do you understand?”

  Henrik wanted to turn away from her disapproval, but forced himself to dwell in the face of it, even though acid speared up from his stomach. “I hate you being here, Ailish. I hate it. But I’m glad as hell you’re not here because you feel indebted to me. For what I did.”

  She spoke in a whisper. “I can’t let myself feel that way. Not yet. If I think about it, I’ll want to ask why you did it. And if you tell me…I might get a little less pissed. I don’t want that, because I’ve spent my life being treated like a pawn, and I won’t accept it anymore. I won’t. Especially not from you.”

  God, she was murdering his soul. He could feel it being battered around like a hockey puck. “Why especially not from me?”

  Ailish shook her head, letting him know she wouldn’t be answering. “I’m here because it’s the right thing to do. I have to fix what I’ve done.” She shifted forward as if she might come closer, but stopped, burying him in disappointment. “For now, we’re still on the same team, so let’s talk about what we need to do.”

  A huge part of him admired the hell out of her just then. She was fierce and beautiful in her staunch fury. But how could she expect him to strategize with their relationship on such thin ice? Goddammit. What choice did he have? Keeping her safe inside the house was his number one concern. When they got out of this alive, he would beg, borrow, and steal to get her back. Whatever it took. “The room could be bugged,” he managed, the words sounding strangled. “When you talk to me, I’m the man who kidnapped you. Brought you here against your will. You understand? At all times.” He bracketed his hands behind his head, paced away and came back, his stomach lining on fire. “What if they’d sent someone else in here with you? What would you have done?”

  Apprehension rippled across her features. “I don’t know. This is unusual, to say the least.” Her eyes lifted to his and flitted away. “You’re the first man who has ever set foot in this bedroom. That includes my father.”

  It took a serious effort not to be turned on by that news, and he still failed. Focus. Pacing the short length of the closet, he replayed the meeting with Caine. “So you’ve been feeling guilty all this time about reporting gambling debts to your father, when in reality you�
�ve probably saved hundreds of their miserable lives by making two sets of books. That right, Ailish?”

  “Doesn’t change anything,” she insisted with a headshake. “I’m still complicit. I could have done more. Could have gone to the police.”

  “Ailish, you couldn’t move an inch without eyes on you. Going to the police would have endangered your life.” Henrik thought of the way Caine had stabbed the knife into his desk, dilated pupils like lasers on Ailish. “Same way your life is in danger now, dammit.” He closed his eyes. “I take it from your reaction that Caine isn’t normally so volatile?”

  “No,” she whispered. “That’s new. He’s always been ruthless, but it was controlled. Now…”

  Henrik swallowed the agony of knowing they were surrounded by enemies. How outnumbered he was if it became necessary to protect her in earnest. “So we have two days until Caine expects those names and figures. Can you get through the books by then?”

  “Yes.” Ailish stared into the bedroom. “But I don’t want to give those names and debts to my father. He’ll use them. And it’ll be on me. Again.”

  He’d reached his limit on seeing Ailish battle guilt. “Let’s get something straight. A man makes a deal with the devil, he knows the consequences up front. You’re just the messenger. None of this has ever been on your head, baby.” He couldn’t tell if his words were sinking in and hated it. Hated the connection she’d blocked between them. “Either way, we won’t let Caine use those names. We have to get you out before handing them over, though. Because once you do…”

  “I might be disposable.”

  He breathed through the dizziness inflicted by saying the words out loud. “That gives us two days to retrieve the evidence. I’ll have to work fast to make sure we get an opening. And find a way to make contact with Derek.”

  Ailish’s cheeks streaked with color. “Did I forget to mention there’s a microphone in my necklace?”

  Henrik arched an eyebrow. “That would have been nice to know.” He lifted the key necklace—their skin shocking upon contact—and brought it to his mouth. “Start looking for my replacement, Derek. You can consider this my notice.”

  Wishing like hell they could remain in the closet indefinitely, where his body could block Ailish from danger, Henrik forced himself to wrap up their conversation. If someone entered the room and found them together in the closet, unfortunate questions would be asked. “We don’t have a lot of time to pull this off. I’m not convinced Caine put me in here just to play babysitter. I don’t think he’s ready to have me roam the house just yet.” On reflex, he reached out to cup Ailish’s cheek, but it turned into a fist and dropped before making contact. “Tell me what we’re looking for. Tell me what evidence we’re here risking your life for.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again. “I’ll tell you when the time comes. I can’t risk you cutting me out again.” When Henrik started to launch a protest, she cut him off. “My father has two offices. The one where he brought us, and another in the basement. You need to get me to the basement office.”

  Henrik’s head tipped forward. “You’re asking too much of me, Ailish. Do you know what will happen if we’re caught together stealing from your father?” He eased closer. “I’ll protect you with my life, my body, but I won’t be able to get you out safely if I’m—”

  “Don’t say it,” she breathed, alarm transforming her features. “Please.”

  Hope caused the broken pieces of his heart to stir. “You’re still my girl, aren’t you, Ailish?”

  Her lips parted on an almost inaudible sob, but she blinked and stepped away. “You need me in that office because I’m the only one, besides Caine, with the combination to the safe. And everything we need is inside.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ailish stared into the blue depths of the swimming pool, watching her feet glide back and forth as if they were someone else’s legs. Growing up, the swimming pool had been her escape, but now she found that laughable. It was surrounded on all sides by three stories of the prison she’d called home. Towering over her little slice of normalcy, blocking out the sun and casting long shadows. At one time, the ivy climbing the walls had been beautiful to her. Now the strands of green medallions only appeared to be making a break for freedom.

  The sound of the gentle ripples created by her feet were drowned out by her father’s men inside the house. Henrik would be with them. Blending in as best he could as a former police officer turned to the criminal lifestyle. She hadn’t spoken to him since the early afternoon confrontation in her closet. After immediately getting down to the sickening business of drafting a veritable murder list for her father, Henrik had left her bedroom to stand guard in the hallway, opening the door to check on her once an hour. Too many hours of her life had been spent in that bedroom, working over her desk, trying to spare as many lives as possible. Because of her numerous attempts to run away since becoming a preteen, a guard had always stood sentry in the hallway. She didn’t want Henrik to take the place of those men. It made her ill.

  And whether or not it was rational, it made her mad.

  Ailish was inside the walls of her own doing. She’d allowed Sera to bind her, allowed Derek to help her into the trunk. This was her decision. And while having that control put her a great distance from the powerless girl she’d once been inside those walls, the memories were too potent. The male shouting and laughter in the distance built a churning whirlpool of disgust and indignation within her. Every time she heard clinking ice cubes in a glass or the crack of pool balls, she wanted to scream. Maybe if she screamed loud enough, she could crumble the walls out of sheer force of will.

  When she sensed someone joining her in the pool area, Ailish didn’t even glance up. She knew that tread, knew that quiet restraint by heart already. Henrik. The whirlpool turning in her stomach moved a little faster, fast enough to drown out the way her pulse ticked up forty notches at having him nearby. A tiny twinkle of guilt tried to wedge itself in the whirlpool’s path, grind it to a halt, but she wouldn’t allow that. She’d been given the option of freedom in that forest. But she’d chosen to come back to Chicago, to fight her father’s evil side by side. That decision had taken so much. The overcoming of fear, a giant leap of trust. He’d squandered that trust, and there would be no running into his arms or forgiveness. The hurt was too fresh.

  Ailish slipped off the side of the pool, letting the cool water engulf her. She turned upside down, letting the tips of her toes point toward the sky, and rejoiced in the absolute silence. Air started to run scarce, so she pushed back to the surface, unsurprised to find Henrik standing at the pool’s concrete lip. She registered the worry lines between his eyes, the tautness of his body, as if he were preparing to dive in after her. It made Ailish feel a little desperate. Made her ache. But her newfound stubbornness galvanized and overcompensated, kicking any sympathy for Henrik to the curb and making her want to lash out.

  I thought you could be my future, but now you’re just blending with the past, abusing my trust like everyone else. A familiar, helpless feeling was overtaking her, and she met it head-on. The only way she knew how.

  Ailish’s eyelids grew heavy, warmth growing heavy in her belly. She braced her hands on the pool’s edge and climbed out, aware of the water running down her body. Over her breasts, loosely contained as they were in the teal-green triangles of her bikini. When she’d chosen it out of her dresser drawer, pride had prevented her from admitting the hope that she’d run into Henrik. Now her pride presented itself in a different way. She wanted some control back. There was a way to accomplish that. Recognizing and embracing the need to act out physically was just like slipping naked into cool, crisp, silk bedsheets.

  Night was falling, the encroaching darkness accelerated by the surrounding walls of the house. Only the barest amount of moonlight shone in, giving her an excuse to be bolder, more daring than she would be in the daylight.

  Henrik stepped back as Ailish exited the pool, throwing a lo
ok over his shoulder toward the house before giving her his full attention. “Are you…” His cautious gaze ran the length of her without moving his head, the deep voice of his emerging as if scraped over a bed of nails. “How are you?”

  Ailish gathered her wet hair and squeezed out the excess moisture. Then she stretched her arms up, piling the tresses on top of her head, swaying slowly as she secured a bun. “I’m just fine.” She watched Henrik follow the droplets of moisture coasting down her stomach, absorbing into the thin material of her abbreviated bottoms. “Did you need something?”

  His throat muscles shifted. “Your break has gone on long enough. Time to head back.”

  She blinked away the red screen that dropped in front of her vision. “And you’re going to escort me back to my cell?”

  “You’re safer indoors,” he answered in a low tone. “Wrap a towel around yourself and get inside.”

  Henrik was right. She knew that. Since she’d run away, a shift had taken place at her father’s house, and the landscape wasn’t entirely the same as it had been. The energy was uncomfortable, clinging to the walls in every room like the ivy she’d stopped appreciating. If the men were no longer ruled by fear of repercussions from her father, Ailish was in more danger than ever. But it was hard to reason with herself under the influence of a thrumming pulse, excitement tickling up the inside of her thighs, and Henrik looming so close, clearly wanting to devour her. “I’m not ready to go inside.”

  “Do you need to be carried?”

  He didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to take away her free will—that much was plain in his expression. But he would if she pushed him far enough. And the secret, wicked part of her wanted to taunt him. Force him into cracking. Being just that much more like everyone else. Ailish dropped down onto the lounge chair where she’d laid a towel earlier, smoothing her feet up and back the terry cloth material. Up and back. Up and back. Stretching her thigh muscles out, then drawing them back in. Watching Henrik through half-closed eyes, she let her fingers dance on the propped-up tops of her knees, slowly dragging them down toward her center, arching her back as they traveled.