The Empire Page 10

  “I think that if we’re looking for a motive in all of this, and a tie to you, that it stretches back to your beginning.”

  “She was gone before I went to live with my father.”

  “Yeah.” I pick up my own mug, “I know you said that.” I don’t offer more. I’m not sure I want to say what’s in my mind.

  He tilts his head, his brows furrowing. “You think this is somehow connected to my mother.”

  “Both of your mothers,” I say. “I mean, I’d say Isaac’s mother had a motive to kill your mother if she wasn’t dead before that.”

  Ignoring his cup on the table, he reaches for the one in my hand and takes a drink. “It’s an interesting idea though. Her being murdered, that is. We’ve certainly seen that my father is willing to kill.”

  “Is he?” I ask. “I mean yes, ultimately you and I look at what he did to your mother as murder, but perhaps he justified that in that—” I touch his arm, “sorry, but in that she was dying anyway.” His lips thin and he sets my cup on the table next to his.

  “She was dying, but she had the chance to survive. Others in that study she was entering got years out of it. I know. I looked it up.” He scrubs his jaw. “Years ago. I looked it up years ago, Harper.” He doesn’t look away, as I believe he would have when we first met. He looks at me, really looks at me, but more so, he lets the pain bleed from his soul through his eyes. “You know losing her defined me then and now.”

  I settle my hand on his knee and twist to face him. “No. I don’t. I think loving her has defined you which is exactly why you have turned a cheek with this family so many times. You know that she didn’t want you to become one of them and you aren’t. Don’t let this, right now, change that.”

  “They took her. They tried to take you.” His voice is low, a mere whisper, but the emotion, the intensity, the anger, radiates through every syllable. “They have to pay.”

  “And they will. Making them pay doesn’t make you like them. How you make them pay does. They need to pay. No one as evil as the Kingstons deserves the life they lead.”

  He sucks in a breath, his expression tightening. “I’m a Kingston,” he says. “I share the same blood, the same genetics. I might even be a fucking savant because of fucking Gigi.” My heart lurches with the spike of his anger that falls around me in suffocating complexity.

  “Eric—”

  He stands and drags me to my feet. “Let’s go.”

  He laces his fingers with mine and I barely have time to grab my purse before we’re moving, weaving through a few tables toward the front door. The evil Kingston comment was clearly a mistake. No. No, it’s not a mistake. He’s not a Kingston. He’s a Mitchell. Talking about the Kingston bloodline while talking about his mother, though, that was poorly timed. The fact that he left that hospital today and needed an escape, should have told me to dial things back. He needed an escape. He needed a breather. He needed to face his fear of his father dying when he hates his father, but it’s more than that. So much more and there is much I have to say to this man.

  We approach the door and he opens it, stepping outside to scan before he pulls me outside with him. “Where are we going?” I ask as we walk toward our hired car.

  “My apartment,” he says. Not home. Not our apartment. It feels intentional. It feels calculated and I’m officially angry now, too, for about five different reasons.

  The driver is waiting by the car and he opens the rear door upon our approach. I attempt to enter the car, but Eric catches my arm, leans inside the vehicle to check inside and then motions for me to enter. He doesn’t look at me and I want to punch him. This is not what we need right now. I climb inside the vehicle and he follows behind me. I rotate to face him, poking a finger at his chest before the driver joins us and I say just what I’m thinking. “This is not what we need right now. We’re a team. We have to be a team. If we’re not. If that’s not what this is, then I need to know right now. If we’re not—”

  “We’ll talk,” he says. “At my apartment.”

  “Your apartment? Maybe we should go back to Denver and talk at my house.” I rotate and face forward. The driver settles in behind the wheel and our moment for privacy is lost.

  The SUV starts to move, and I’m hyperaware of the fact that Eric and I are not touching. I’m hyperaware of how much I want to touch him, how much I want him to touch me, but he’s shut me out. I don’t know what is going on with him, but I know neither of us can take this right now. We have too much eroding our bond, our lives. We can’t do this. I can’t do this. My fingers curl on my legs, and I’m suddenly about to explode. Everything I knew as my world is no longer my world. All I have is him and this life we were starting together. Now, it’s all about his apartment. His decisions. This has to be about us. I really am about to explode.

  Thank God the ride is only a few blocks. We stop in front of the building. The doors are opened on both sides of us and I’d normally get out with Eric, but I don’t. I slide out the opposite direction and I can feel Eric’s eyes on my back as I do so. I round the SUV and find Eric there talking to the driver, who he tips well, right along with a building staff member, who is paid well to bring our packages upstairs. God. I let him spend money on me, too much money. I can never feel secure like this. I head for the building. I need to get to the apartment before I start showing emotions right here in front of witnesses. I’ll meet Eric at his apartment door. He didn’t even correct me on that topic.

  I rush through the doors of the building and through the lobby, barely waving at the doorman. I reach the elevator and gasp as said doorman steps to my side. “May I help you, miss? Do you have an invitation into the building?”

  An invitation. To my own apartment, that isn’t my apartment at all. Eric joins us, his eyes meeting mine. “She’s with me.”

  “Right,” I say. “Do I need a visitor’s badge or something?” I’m not looking at the guard. I’m looking at Eric. “Something that says temporarily yours?”

  His eyes flash and he shocks me by dragging me to him. “Is that where you want to go with this?”

  “We’re not alone,” I whisper.

  He looks at the guard and that’s all it takes. The guard walks away and it’s game on for me and Eric. The explosion is about to happen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Harper

  Eric pulls me into the elevator and punches in the code for his floor. I don’t know that code. Another reason to feel like I’m a visitor. Eric turns me into the corner, his big body crowding mine as the elevator doors shuts behind him. “Don’t trap me against the wall,” I whisper, shoving at the hard, unmoving wall of his chest. “Don’t bully me.”

  “That’s what you think I’m doing? Bullying you?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time, now would it? You did it the night we met.”

  “You followed me.”

  “Because you—”

  “Because I what?”

  Because he challenged me. Because he woke me up in ways I needed to be woken up physically and emotionally. Because he made me see the light. “Because you acted like an asshole then, like you are right now.”

  “I am an asshole, Harper. I might even be the devil himself. I’m a Kingston, remember?”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t twist my words and make them—”

  The elevator dings and he pushes off the wall and takes me with him, anger radiating off of him and slamming right into my own. I’m furious with him and the reasons are many, so many that I am bursting to proclaim them all. He doesn’t have to drag me to the apartment. I’m keeping pace with him. I’m right there at the door as he unlocks it, he who has a key while I do not. He shoves the door open and I don’t wait for a visitor’s invitation. I enter and whirl around to face him.

  He locks the door and stands there, his back to me, his spine stiff, seconds ticking by like the arm of a clock weighted with lead. I can’t take it. I don’t want to wait to say my piece, but he doesn’t want to hear it. H
e doesn’t want to deal with me. I’m here, in his space, in his place, and right now, I’m pretty sure he asked me to stay because it was the heat of the moment. Why am I going to waste my energy telling him all the things I feel that don’t matter? This family is trying to suck out any part of me that is human. He’s trying to break every part of me. I always knew he would.

  I rotate and all but run to the bedroom. I need to pack what I have to my name and leave. I walk into the bathroom and realize I have nothing really, plus where am I going to go? Where am I safe? I shut the door and lock it. I wait then, hoping Eric will follow me. Hoping he will make this all go away, but there is no knock on the door. There is just silence. I slide down the wooden surface and squeeze my eyes shut, fighting a pinch that promises to become tears. I don’t know what is happening between us. I just know that I have nothing stable to call my own, not even my mother. Not my house, where I would hide and just find peace and calm within myself.

  My cellphone rings and I pull it from my pocket to find a blocked number. I think of Gigi immediately and answer the call. “Hello?” There is static and the line goes dead. Damn it. I wait and hope it will ring again but it doesn’t. Seconds tick by and nothing. I stand up, force down my emotions. I should tell Eric. Or Blake. I can call Blake. Of course, I don’t have his number. Do I? I think I have Smith’s number. Yes. I dial Smith. He answers on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I just got a blocked call. It went dead when I answered. I thought you might want to track it.”

  “Right. We have your phone monitored. If it was traceable in any way, which is doubtful, Blake will have it handled.”

  “Okay, great thanks.” I start to hang up.

  “Wait,” Smith says. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “This is all just—a lot. You know?”

  “Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Do you want me to get an update on your mother?”

  “No. I’m going to call her.”

  He’s silent a moment. “Let me know what I can do.”

  “Actually, if I needed a safe place to stay—”

  “You’re safe with Eric. Stay there.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Stay there,” he repeats. “You need to stay there.”

  “Okay,” I whisper and hang up.

  He calls back. I don’t take the call. I dial my mother. She answers. “Harper?”

  She sounds lucid. “How are you?”

  “Numb. I can’t believe he’s in ICU. I can’t believe I’m on lockdown.”

  It hits me that she has yet to ask if I’m on lockdown or safe. “To protect you.”

  “I need to be with him. If he’s gone—”

  “He’s not. He’s a stubborn bastard who won’t die,” I say, basically repeating Eric’s idea on the matter. “Mom, I need to know what’s going on. Why would anyone do this?”

  “I don’t know!” she declares, her voice a shrill attack. “You think I know?”

  “You know what he did to Eric’s mother and kept it silent. So yes, I think you know things you don’t share. Bad things.”

  “I don’t. I don’t. I’m not that person.”

  “You knew he denied Eric’s mother treatment. How do you live with that?”

  “It wasn’t true. I told you that.”

  “But while you were drugged, you were worried Eric found out.”

  “That’s not true. I didn’t worry Eric found out. There’s nothing to find out.”

  “What is going on, mother?” I stand up. “Tell me now.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it the unions and the mob?”

  “No—I—no—”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She sobs. “My husband is dying and my daughter’s attacking me. This is just priceless. I’m hanging up.”

  “Okay. And don’t worry, mom. I’m safe. Just in case you wondered.” I hang up. I know she knows what’s going on. I have to go there. I have to make her talk. Walker can take me and protect me.

  I open the bathroom door and jolt to find Eric standing there, his hands on either side of the doorframe. He’s so damn big and I can smell that earthy, male scent of him. And those blue eyes. Those blue eyes look at me with piercing judgment I don’t want to feel from this man. He’s the person who shouldn’t judge me. He’s the person who should expect judgment from me, but after what happened at the coffee shop I know he does, on both counts. And now, now, he’s cold, calculated, unemotional. “Eric,” I breathe out.

  “You asked to leave? You want to fucking leave?”

  He’s not cold and calculated anymore. He’s angry all over again.

  “What did you expect? Because the minute I hit a nerve, you shut me out. You let me feel temporary, like a house guest. You did that to me. You made sure I know that I’m alone. I’m alone. I don’t even have my mother anymore. I don’t have my house because no matter what, I can’t go back, but I felt like I had you and us, but you made me feel like an outsider. If I’m alone, I need to just be alone. Move out of my way.”

  “Not a chance in hell, baby.” He drags me to him, the touch of his hand on my arm sending electricity shooting up my arm and over my chest. A moment later, I’m flush with his hard body and every emotion we’ve ever shared is right here, right now, combustible, so damn combustible that I think the room might ignite.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Harper

  “Let go, Eric,” I pant out, feeling the rush of heat that this man’s body creates in mine. “Let go.”

  He’s stone, his jaw hard. His eyes steel. His entire demeanor. “You don’t get to just walk away.”

  I want him to fight for me. I want him to want me to stay, but I will not be his prison. I will not be a puppet to have my strings pulled based on his mood. “You can’t stop me.”

  “I can. I will. Until I know you’re safe—”

  “And then I can go? When I’m safe?” A muscle in that hard-set jaw flexes, and I don’t give him time to reply, not that I believe he’s about to offer anything but silence and brooding arrogance. “I can’t do this,” I say. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what, Harper?”

  “Play this off and on game with you.”

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “I’m not even sure what that has to do with my statement, but let’s go there, Eric. You’re protecting me? By shutting me out? Because we both know that’s what happened back at that coffee shop. I hit some Kingston fucking nerve and then you shut down. You shut me out and I get it. You made a mistake asking me to move here. I made a mistake by agreeing.”

  “Did you now?”

  “Yes. I did because I’m not escaping the Kingstons. They control you.”

  “They don’t control me.”

  “Yes, they do, or we wouldn’t be like we are right now.”

  He tangles his fingers into my hair and turns me to press me against the wall. “The only person controlling me is you.”

  “Me? No. No, I have no control.”

  “You have too much control. You make me forget my rules. You make me—”

  “I don’t make you do anything, Eric. I’m going to leave. I’m going to—”

  His mouth comes down on mine, his lips firm, his tongue punishing, demanding. He wants it all. He wants it all and it pisses him off. He doesn’t like that he invited me here. He doesn’t like that he needs me, and he does. I taste that on his lips. I taste that in his kiss. I feel that need in the way he presses his hard body against mine. The way he drags his hand over my breast, down my waist, to cup my ass and pull me hard against his hard erection.

  It angers me that he’s pissed off for wanting and needing me. I want him. I need him and that makes me want to push him away, but that’s the thing about wanting and needing. It’s impossible to just say no. And so, I do what he’s doing. I say everything I feel in our kiss. In the way I tug at his T-shirt. In the way I touch hi
m when he pulls it over his head and tosses it away. Like I might never know what each of those inked messages on his arms mean. Like I might not touch him again and I pray, I so pray, that isn’t the case.

  Time and space face into this man and it’s a swift few moments before I’m shirtless and braless. Before his gaze is raking over my naked breasts with such hunger that my sex clenches, aching for him to be inside me.

  This burn accelerates as his hand comes down my breast again, his fingers twisting my nipple roughly. Everything about him is sharp and rough tonight and I cry out with the ache that is both pain and pleasure. I cry out with how much I want to know this part of him, this dark, edgier Eric that I’ve glimpsed but have yet to fully see.

  His eyes narrow on my face and he pinches my nipple again. I grab his hand with the pain but I’m wet, my sex throbbing. “Are you punishing me for being here?”

  “I’m showing you who I really am,” he murmurs, and then he’s on his knees, yanking roughly at my pants, and it’s moments before they are at my ankles and he’s lifting me, freeing me from their restraint, but I’m not free at all. I will never be free of this man and what he does to me. Of the way he has taken over who I am as a woman since the moment I met him.

  His hands, those big wonderful hands, grip my waist, and he looks up at me with those piercing intelligent blue eyes. “Who am I, Harper?”

  “The brilliant man I love even when he acts like the asshole you did tonight.”

  He runs his thumb over my clit. “Then maybe I haven’t shown you enough.”

  “Because you want to get rid of me?” He licks my nub with that equally brilliant tongue of his and I suck in air. “If that’s supposed to be how you do it?” His finger slides alone my wet seam. “Because if it is, it’s not working.”

  He turns me, and suddenly I’m facing the doorframe, catching my hands on the wooden centerpiece. I barely have time to grasp what just happened when his hand comes down on my backside, a hard smack that has me arching my back and panting. He’s standing now, behind me, his fingers in my sex, his hand on my breast. I’m pulled against him as he murmurs in my ear. “I told you I’d fuck you and scare you the hell away.”