Page 12 of Finding Denver
Dorian is wide-eyed, tears running down his cheeks, and I point my gun at him.
“Tell me what you fucking gave her!”
“Colt,” Taf whispers, eyes focused on the floor. “He can’t tell you.”
I’m about to question why when I lean over—and see the lump of bloody muscle on the ground. I raise my gaze to Dorian, his pale, blood-covered face, and then to Denver, her lips soaked in red.
She bit the tongue right out of his mouth.
One text later,Ranger is knocking on the penthouse, but the sound is closer to a thud. Taf positions himself by theentrance, arm outstretched, gun in hand, ready to fire if this meeting goes south.
The barrel of Ranger’s gun fills my vision as I open the door. I’m not unarmed, but my weapons are holstered, because he won’t kill me until he knows where Denver is—and judging by the tightness of his jaw and hold on the gun, he knows that, too.
He hides his surprise as I back away with confidence, allowing him into the room. JJ is with him, light blue eyes narrowed on me before cutting to Taf. Taf grins at him and winks.
Ranger locks his fierce gaze on mine. “You.”
“Me,” I say. His attention cuts to my forearms for a split second. I’ve rolled up my sleeves to my elbows, and recognition crosses his expression. He knows exactly who I am. “Drop the gun, Ranger. I’m not here to fight.”
“Where is my fucking wife?” he bites out.
“Asleep.”
Rage flashes across his face. “Elaborate. Before I tear off this guy’s arm and beat you to death with it.”
Taf looks mildly amused by the threat but stays in place.
“Spider’s son was here,” I explain. “He took Denver.” Something unexpected flashes in the hellfire of Ranger’s eyes—fear. A fear I know well, and one I won’t exploit. “He didn’t get a chance to …” Part of me wants to sugarcoat what I saw, but Ranger seems like someone who would use the truth as fuel for his fire. “She was on the bed. The straps of her dress were down, but she wasn’t exposed. He injected her with something and then must have kissed her. She bit his tongue out.”
The lights shine in his eyes, and he says nothing, as ifwaiting for me to admit to a lie, or to add more horror to the story.
“Where is she?”
I nod at the bedroom door, and he shoulders Taf aside to go to it. I follow and watch from the doorway as the most powerful man in San Francisco gets to his knees.
The lion bows before a deer, a fearless creature going against its nature to worship something far too precious for this world. It’s such a jarring sight that I say nothing.
He takes Denver’s hand. She’s still unconscious, and he runs his fingers across her forehead, brushing her hair back. He kisses her knuckles and stands, taking a beat before facing me.
His voice is low, his words threaded with violent promise as he says, “Tell me where he is.”
I lead him to where Dorian is tied up in the bedroom on the opposite side of the suite. The smell of blood, piss, and burned flesh engulfs the room as Ranger and I stand in the presence of Dorian Eddard. He’s sweating, his skin pale. It’s a miracle he’s alive.
“Why hasn’t he bled out?” Ranger asks, taking off his tuxedo jacket.
“I cauterized what was left of his tongue.”
It was unpleasant, but necessary. Hearing Dorian scream was fun, though.
Ranger removes his bow tie and unbuttons the top of his shirt, his focus entirely on Dorian. It’s strange to stand almost shoulder to shoulder with Ranger Luxe. The enemy of my enemy might be my friend, but it’s a brittle kind of friendship that snaps the moment the object of our hate is removed.
“I need something sharp.”
I arch a brow. “Do I look like I’m on your fucking payroll?”
He casts a glance over my suit. “No. You’d be wearing a nicer tuxedo.”
“That insult would work if we weren’t wearing the same one,” I point out. “In fact, I’m fairly sure we’re the same size.”
