Page 145 of Finding Denver
The McEwan empire has no one at the head. The Harland family has me, but I’m not a named Harland, and while people are used to turning to me after Colt’s years in the dark, him disappearing will raise questions.
Two of the most powerful families in New York are vulnerable, and it won’t be long until people want their pound of flesh.
Taf approaches slowly, pulling me into a hug. I squeeze him, taking strength where I can, because he knows all this, too. We have minutes to regroup before things spiral.
He pulls back from the hug. “Denver is back from her tests.”
On the way to Denver’s room, I pass by the waiting area. Danielle is sat upright, Alison’s head on her knee. She tracks me as I pass, and I give her a reassuring smile that she doesn’t return.
Denver is sitting up in bed, her arm in a sling. Cuts and bruises cover her face, and she’s arguing with a nurse. “I don’t need to lie down. I need—” She sees me. “Alistair, where’s Colt?”
“He’s just got out of surgery,” I say.
Her frantic eyes search mine. “Why? What did he need surgery for?”
“He has swelling on his brain,” I say. “But the doctors are optimistic.”
“When did he get out of surgery? When can I talk to him?”
I don’t like Denver Luxe. It’s been tough to accept her into my life, my family, my work. My suspicion is buried deep, and I don’t believe her innocence. But I do believe she loves Colt. I don’t think she intended to fall in love—I think she came here with purpose and her feelings developed along the way. But it’s still love, and regardless of my suspicions, Colt would want me to be by her side, so I will be.
And I might be the only person at her side for a while.
“Denver.” I sit on the edge of her bed.
Her breathing quickens. “What? What’s wrong with Colt?”
“The damage … the …” I try to remember what the doctor said, the words he’d used to gently hammer home the truth of Colt’s condition. “They had to put him into a medically induced coma.”
“… for how long?” Her voice is small, her eyes glassy.
“Can you give us a minute?” I say to the nurse, and she leaves us alone. “We don’t know. It could be a few days, maybe longer.” I try to detach myself. To tell myself this isn’t Colt I’m talking about. Not my best friend, not him. “He’s strong, Denver.” She doesn’t look like she’s listening anymore. She’s staring at the bedding, her lips slightly parted. “Denver?” She meets my gaze. “I know you’re going through a lot. We all are, but I need you here. You can’t check out. You need to be present.”
She searches my eyes, but I can see her slipping away. “Why?”
“Because I need you to step up. Finn’s house was hit, too. Ronan and Finn are in surgery. Helena, Lewis and Wesson arefine. Wilder …”
Her inhale shudders. “He’s dead?” I can only nod. “Where’s Holly?”
“She’s here with Antonia.” Colt’s mother. Who is processing losing one son, and the fact she might lose another. “Holly asked about you.”
That seems to yank Denver away from whatever precipice she was dangling over. Some life and expression return to her, and she takes a steadying breath before saying, “Colt, Ronan, and Finn aren’t able to run anything … the families are ungoverned.”
I nod, glad I don’t need to explain it. “And there’s the added pressure that we don’t know who did this.” I hate what I’m about to say, hate that the words are going to leave my mouth, but I don’t have any other fucking options. I sit on the edge of the bed and face her. “The other families will come for us. They’ll strip us down. We have allies, but if we’re weak, even they might turn their back on us.” She watches me. “The heads of the families are traditional. They didn’t like it when I ran most of the company. Even though they knew the decisions were made by Colt, they didn’t have a Harland name, and they didn’t like it. It took years of struggle to get some kind of peace with them. I can step back in. It won’t be easy, but I can,” I say, and she stays quiet. “But they’ll want a McEwan at the helm.”
Denver tilts her head. “You can’t mean Ranger?”
“No,” I say. “I mean you.”
She leans back into the pillow. “I’m not a McEwan.”
“Technically, you are. By marriage,” I say. “We can spin it. Say Ranger is sticking to the West Coast to run his own businesses, and you’re here to be the McEwan on the East Coast. You have a strong reputation and ties to New York?—”
“As a DeLuca,” she whispers. “My dad left with mymom without permission. Everyone thinks he let his family get slaughtered for her. My name is dirt here.”
“The DeLuca name is, yes, but Denver Luxe’s isn’t,” I say. “You stood side by side with McEwans and Harlands, and people saw that. Even your reputation in San Francisco means something.”
Denver looks away from me, brow furrowed in quiet thought. I’m asking a lot. I’m asking her to step in as the head of the most powerful family in the city, and she has experience, but not much.
