Saving Hailey: Chapter 20

“Smells delicious,” Hailey says, showing up downstairs.

I take her in, my cock bulging against the zipper. She’s in a knitted dress—Layla’s go-to style. Long sleeves and a mid-thigh hem imitate modesty, but it’s fucking erotic how tightly the royal-blue dress encircles her figure. She moves closer, timidly looking around, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling, the scent of her skin wafting the air.

I want her. It’s that fucking simple. I want all of her…

Her lips on mine, her legs around my waist, her pussy choking my cock: the primitive side I crave.

But there’s also a deeper, emotional side I’d give my right arm for. The calm of knowing she’s mine and I’m hers. The bliss I felt at Lakeside… when I was Nash and she loved me.

Him.

She sees two different people in me and Carter’s not the one she loves. Nash is.

A hot ball of frustration, confusion, and jealousy swells—

Jesus fuck…

How can I be jealous of Nash? I fucking was Nash! I fucking am Nash! We’re the same person!

Too bad Hailey doesn’t see that, and I have no idea how to reconcile the two for her. I have half a mind to send my men away and stay here with her, tucked out of anyone’s reach, away from problems, dangers, and lies.

But while safe, the safe house won’t stay that way long. Rhett will catch onto us soon enough.

I could live a happy life on a deserted island somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean if Hailey was with me: smiles, lust, and trust. Just us forever. I don’t need more.

While those enticing visuals urge me to abandon everyone and everything I know, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Rhett’s name flashes on the screen as I pull it out and reject yet another of his calls.

The reality is, I can’t escape his wrath any more than I can escape the dozens of men dying to get their hands on Hailey.

Until I have the evidence, until I know who’d go down if it ever saw the light of day, I’m stuck here, keeping Hailey safe and hoping she’ll see past my lies and realize she’s the center of my universe.

Everything revolves around her.

I need her trust more than I need air.

“Hungry?” Koby asks, looking her over.

“Yes.” She crosses the room to sit by the kitchen island where Ryder’s dishing out breakfast. “I’m Hailey,” she adds, glancing between them. “Thank you for saving me last night.”

“We already phone-met,” Ryder says, grinning as he pushes a plate her way. “I’m Ryder. That’s Broadway and Koby.” He motions to the other two.

She whips her blonde locks over one shoulder, taking a seat beside me just as my phone starts ringing again.

Fuck.

I drop the fork, pushing my plate aside. There’s no escaping this conversation any longer. Rhett’s been blowing up my phone since last night, every missed call probably fueling his anger. Reluctantly, I head to the control room, sliding my finger across the screen while I watch my girl take a seat, all artificial smiles designed to hide what she really feels: sadness. Loneliness. Confusion beyond my wildest dreams, I’m sure.

“Rhett,” I bark, pressing the cell to my ear.

“About time you answered my fucking call. You have one chance to explain before I send every single one of my men after you and that little slut.”

Blood boils in my veins, the derogatory way he’s talking about my future wife flaring my temper.

“Your safe house is common knowledge,” I spit out. “How long would it be before one of your acquaintances raided the place?”

That’s a shitty defense line, but if I can convince him we’re still playing for the same team, he’ll keep his goons in check. The safe house is well hidden, its location known by only seven men total, but that’s no guarantee Rhett won’t figure it out if he puts his mind to it. I bet he’s already delegated a team to the job.

All they need is to dig up information about all the land Dante’s put money into, cross-reference it against building permits, then point, aim, and shoot at every target until they hit the jackpot.

While Dante took every precaution possible to ensure the estate couldn’t be traced back to him, I’m sure there’s paperwork somewhere that’d lead Rhett right here.

Which is why I need him on my side, firmly believing we’re working together toward a mutual goal—extracting the evidence from Hailey’s fragile mind.

“Everyone who went with you last night is dead, Carter,” Rhett barks. “Only Apollo made it back.”

Now that’s interesting. Two of Rhett’s pawns died at Noretto’s mansion, I can believe the escape driver with Apollo didn’t survive the crash, but the foot soldiers trekking through the forest should’ve made it out alive…

Looks like Apollo took it upon himself to tie up the loose ends… and that means he’s not entirely on Rhett’s side, which in turn confirms my suspicions. Rhett’s playing me for a fool.

He doesn’t just want the evidence to escape jail time. There’s more to it. Something I can’t see.

“Then you know exactly how the night went down,” I say, hoping he won’t quiz me to check my story tallies with Apollo’s. “Your safe house is not fucking safe and having you breathing down Hailey’s neck wouldn’t help the situation. She didn’t have a single flashback the entire time she was at Noretto’s. Her brain jams up when she feels threatened.”

That’s not entirely true. Hailey mentioned she dived into her past once, but Rhett doesn’t need to know.

“It’s taking too long, Carter.”

“Tell me about it.” As much as I want to tell him that it’s me who’s dictating the rules, that I hold his fate in a tight grasp, I chose to maintain the façade, hoping it’ll boost his flaking trust. “You’re not the one ditching your life to babysit her.”

“Spare me the bullshit. You’re forgetting I had other eyes on Lakeside than you. You think I don’t know you’ve been sticking your cock in that cunt for weeks?”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I snap on autopilot, my blood boiling, hands itching to land a few precise blows on Rhett’s face.

“You dumb son of a bitch,” he huffs, incredulous. “You’re not just fucking her, are you? You’re in love with her.”

Grinding my teeth, I sift through my mental arsenal, hunting for a strong enough defense and coming up blank. “What difference does it make?” I finally say, lacking better ideas. “It changes nothing.”

“Nothing? She killed Aalyiah! She deserves pain but that won’t fucking happen now, will it?”

“Fine. It changes one thing. An irrelevant thing given how misplaced your anger is. Alex is the reason Aalyiah’s dead. Hailey got caught in the crossfire. She’s under my protection, and so are her memories, but relax. You’ll get the evidence once she remembers where it is.”

“Not all of it,” he grits out, a bang resounding in the background. “I know you’ll keep some of it to yourself.”

Some?

Why not all? Is he so arrogant he doesn’t realize I’ll keep a copy as an insurance policy. It’s the easiest way to ensure no one ever thinks about touching Hailey. He must fucking knowthat.

“The end result doesn’t change, Rhett. You’ll get your get-out-of-jail-free card just like everyone else it incriminates.”

He makes a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. “That’s the fucking problem. Not everyone should.”

Says the man with enough blood on his hands for a thousand transfusions.

Crackling follows his words, and the line goes dead.

Dropping the phone onto the desk, I massage my temples, a badass headache sprouting at the base of my scalp. I’m sick of this game. Sick and tired of the lies, the concealed information, the evasion, and the cryptic one-liners.

I cast a glance at the dining room feed, seeking the one person that makes this shitshow worth enduring. Hailey stares at her plate, but doesn’t eat, pushing her food about while watching my men.

“What’s wrong?” Koby asks spearing a slice of bacon.

“You want more egg—” Broadway trips over his words because the moment Koby starts chewing, Hailey shoves a forkful so large into her mouth you’d think it’s a competition.

My brows knot in the middle. She spent five minutes staring at her plate, and now she barely has time to swallow, trembling softly as she packs in more food.

Fuck…

She was checking it was safe to eat, waiting until one of them took a bite before diving in.

I’ve seen her at breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for weeks. Never once did she choose scrambled eggs. Never once did she eat like she enjoyed food… now she’s practically inhaling it.

“Slow down, girl,” Koby chuckles. “There’s plenty more in the pan. I can cook, but I’m not good at gauging portions. I always end up making way too much.”

Her cheeks pink up. As if realizing she’s not alone, her back straightens, and she wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin, slowing down her chewing. I storm out of the control room, crossing the living room in a few long strides.

“When’s the last time you ate?” I ask, scrutinizing her body from head to toe.

She’s skinnier than she was. Everything she gained at Lakeside while I ensured she ate three meals a day is gone.

Instead of answering my question, she clasps the orange juice in both hands, taking small, measured sips, blushing harder the longer we stare at her.

“Hailey,” I urge. “When did you eat?”

She chews her cheek, then takes a deep breath, injecting confidence into her posture. “Remember when you threw my beer in the lake?”

She waits for me to nod.

“You taught me well. I was smarter in Blaze’s mansion.”

“You haven’t eaten since Lakeside?” I grit out, anger quivering within me like a loose garden hose. “You didn’t eat for nine days?”

My men don’t wait for confirmation. At once, they push their plates toward her.

She sends them a grateful smile but pushes their plates back across the island. “I’m okay. One portion is enough.”

“Blaze needed you alive and unharmed, Hailey. You should’ve eaten,” Broadway says.

“Maybe… but Blaze wasn’t home for four days, and his men…” She pinches her lips together, shaking her head as if dismissing whatever she was going to say. “When Blaze explained what he needed from me, I considered eating a little, but—” Her cheeks flare even hotter.

“But?” I urge, my jaw ticking.

I’m almost certain I know what she’ll say and my jealousy reignites. Twice as potent.

“It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t hold anything down anyway.”

“Finish what you were going to say,” I insist.

“Blaze didn’t stay with me during mealtimes.”

Staring at the wall beside me, veins in my neck pulsing rapidly, it takes all my willpower not to throw my fist at it. She would’ve eaten if he’d sat with her. She trusted him that much.

Without a word, but with a look that paints a thousand, Koby gets up, his chair scraping along the floor. His shoulders are squared back until he opens the fridge, pulls out the fruit tray and starts peeling clementines.

“Eat.” I swallow my jealousy and urge Hailey on, nudging her shoulder. “You need to gain back every pound you lost.”

Her breathing hitches and a small shudder shakes her, the pink of her cheeks spreading down the porcelain column of her throat.

It’s missing a few strategically placed love bites…

She might not trust me, but my words affect her. I have no fucking idea how to proceed, so I take another approach.

“I talked to your dad. Told him you’re safe.”

Her fork clatters against the plate and her blonde head whips toward me, eyes wide. “You talked to my dad?”

“He’s the reason I found you. When you left Lakeside with Matthews, I was certain he was evacuating you to a better hiding place, on your dad’s orders.”

“Matthews was taking me home, but he turned around after we stopped for gas and took me straight to Noretto. They had his daughter…”

She gives us a rundown of that night’s events, including Blaze’s goons throwing Matthews’ lifeless daughter at his feet before they put a bullet in his head.

“Your man got cuffed for his murder by none other than your dad.” Koby—who’s hacking strawberries into fours—looks up when no one says a word. “What? You weren’t going to hide that from her, were you?” he asks me.

“Not at all.”

“My dad had you in handcuffs and you’re not rotting in jail?” Hailey cocks an eyebrow, the vulnerability she showcased earlier now a memory.

She’s growing more confident around us.

“He had me in handcuffs because I allowed it. I wanted him to tell me you were okay.”

“And he wanted Carter for the exact same reason,” Ryder adds, collecting the empty plates. We’re done eating, but Hailey’s taking much longer to force the food down. “We’ve been hunting for you since day one. Just not in the right place.”

“Once your dad made it clear he didn’t have you, it took us no time to pinpoint your location,” Broadway explains.

“How did you convince him to let you go?” Hailey asks.

Koby finishes his angry chopping and sets a bowl of fruit in front of her. “Dessert,” he says, stuffing his mouth with eggs, long gone cold. “Later, I’ll get you some chocolate.”

“That’s sweet. Thank you.”

“Your dad’s a smart man,” I cut in. “He knew I’d find you and get you back faster than he could.”

She bites her lips, twiddling her fingers. “Did you… did you tell him about us?”

“I did. He’s not pleased.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” She doesn’t elaborate, pouring all her concentration into the bowl of fruit.

It takes another half an hour before we’re done in the kitchen. We move into the living room, where Broadway takes it upon himself to light the wood stove.

Hailey settles on a plush, white carpet by the fire, picking out strawberries from the bowl. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Until you remember where the evidence is. Do you still have your diary?”

She shakes her head. “My bag was in Matthews’ car.”

“Which means it’s probably with the police,” Ryder says, peering over his laptop. “Want me to check?”

“The car spent a week underwater. There won’t be much left of the diary even if the cops have it,” I counter. “Next time you go out, grab a journal and a supply of colorful fine liners.” My attention swings back to Hailey. “What did you remember at Noretto’s?”

“I didn’t think Alex ever mentioned your sister’s name, but he did… Blaze told me she was called Aalyiah, and I saw Alex.” A hint of dread colors her voice as she fills us in on the details. “Do you know anything about Alex’s past?” she segues, halfway through the story.

“Nothing interesting, why?”

“When I suggested he should quit the case, he said he couldn’t because there was a life sentence hanging over his head. It was either jail or death at your father’s hand.”

“A life sentence suggests murder,” Ryder mutters, head dipping back behind his laptop.

I’m not sure what he’s looking for or where. He and Jackson already X-rayed Alex ten different ways and found nothing. It’s almost as if he was born, then lived his whole life off-grid before showing up in Ohio to infiltrate Rhett’s operation. His record’s clean, but Ryder’s must’ve thought of something else.

“It sounds like blackmail,” Koby says. “And Rhett had nothing to blackmail him with and no reason to do it, which leaves Vaughn.”

That’s exactly what’s been bouncing around my head, but it doesn’t fit the profile. “Vaughn doesn’t play dirty.”

“As proven by the forged arrest warrant he flung in your face at Delta.”

I can’t argue with that.