Page 87 of Finding Denver
Ronan groans. “For fuck’s sake, Colt. You just described a Hallmark movie, and you’re surprised you almost kissed her? Where are you?”
“Outside her hotel.”
“Creepy. What’s the plan?”
I lean against my car. “Plan?”
“Yes, the plan. It’s all fine being a romantic, but what about after? Ranger Luxe loves this woman. You walk through those doors and do what your dick is telling you to do, then you’re starting a war. Everything changes.” I squeeze my jaw. “If you’re willing to risk everything for her, then do it. If you’re not, then walk the fuck away.”
A war with Ranger Luxe. He may not be big-time here, but he is in San Francisco, and I’m willing to bet he’ll call in more than a few favors to destroy me if I destroy his marriage. Ronan’s right. Everything would change.
For her. A woman who has pulled feelings out of me that I’ve never had the strength to talk about. She isn’t just strong, beautiful, powerful. She’s … she’s broken in ways I understand. And even without all that, there’s something between us.
Maybe I felt it the moment we spoke at the bar. When she’d tilted her head in intrigue and asked me why I carry chocolate in my jacket pocket. When she’d stood across a restaurant, soaked to the bone, holding the gun that saved my life. When she’d laughed at my stories like we were friends and not enemies.
In just a few weeks, Denver has become more than someone I know. More than a person to protect. More than Denver Luxe.
She’s worth the fight. Worth the battle. Worth the fucking war.
She’s worth everything.
Fuck it.
I pocket my keys. “I’m going in.”
“Halle-fucking-lujah. Tell me how it goes.”
He hangs up and I stride into the lobby. My heart isracing as I bypass the elevator and take the stairs three at a time. I make it to Denver’s door and knock, rolling my shoulders.
What the fuck am I going to say? I guess I’ll just have to wing it. Tell her the truth. That I know it’s messy, and more than complicated, but that we can find a way to work this out.
I wait, but she doesn’t answer. I knock again.
I can hear the television, but no footsteps approach the door. I check my watch—it’s been twenty minutes since I left. Could she have fallen asleep? She didn’t seem tired.
Or maybe she knows it’s me and she’s being the smarter one.
I run a hand through my hair. No. Something is wrong. She’d tell me face to face; she wouldn’t hide behind a door and hope I’d go away.
I call her. No answer.
I walk one door down and knock on Lewis’s room. After a few minutes he answers, squinting at the light.
“Have you spoken to Denver in the last fifteen minutes or so?”
He stares at me. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.” I glance back down the hall. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Something is up. Do you have a key to her room?”
Lewis clears his throat. “If she rejected you, get over it.”
“She didn’t—” I sigh. “Nothing happened, but I’m telling you, something is wrong. Her TV is on, but she isn’t answering her door or her phone.”
He frowns and gestures for me to come in. After knocking on the adjoining door, he waits. “Denver?” No answer. “I’m coming in.”
The lamp is still on, and the television is rolling thecredits fromCasablanca. Denver is sitting on the couch, but I can only see the back of her head. Lewis approaches and crouches in front of her.
“Denver, what’s happened?”
