Page 56 of Freeing Denver
“What is she like?”
The question surprises me, and at first, I’m unsure how to answer. “Danielle?” I ask, and he nods. “She’s … tough. Not easily broken, but a lot has happened.” I look back over at her and Denver. They’re crying as they talk.
“Did she meet Axel?”
“I don’t think so.”
I look away from Denver’s tears, resisting the urge to go to her, scoop her into my arms, and take her away from all this.
“That’s a shame,” Ranger says quietly. As quickly as the guard dropped, it’s back up, and he refocuses on greeting people.
He doesn’t speak again.
The day moves on. Mournful music plays. Conversation is murmured. I’ve been to too many funerals in my life, and I’ll be glad to make this my last, but I doubt it will be.
Stacking a plate with food, I sit beside Denver and place the dish on her lap. “Eat, Del.”
“I’m not hungry,” she whispers.
“I know you’re not, but you still need to eat something. Just a few bites. Please.”
She’s quiet but nods, picking up a small sandwich and nibbling the edges. I brush her hair back, watching Ranger across the living room. He’s by the window talking to Danielle, his spine rigid, jaw tense, but he appears to be listening. He’s being watched by my men, and if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t allow him anywhere near her.
He’s been well behaved this week. He and Denver have shared a few phone calls about funeral arrangements, and she said he’s stuck to facts and not mentioned anything other than Axel. But I don’t trust him, and I never will.
I put my arm around Denver, and she leans into me, still slowly chewing the sandwich. “I’m so tired.”
“We can go home,” I say. “Back to the hotel or New York.”
“Maybe,” she whispers. “Samuel is here.” She stands as Samuel approaches, and he embraces her. “You didn’t have to come.”
He pulls back. “It’s the least I could do. How are you?”
She shakes her head, fresh tears filling her eyes. “Not good, but we’ll get through it.”
“Any resources you need, tell me,” he says, searching her face. “Just ask, and it’s done.” He releases her to shake my hand. “Colt.” His gaze lands on Ranger and Danielle, and I note the small stiffening of his shoulders. “I should pass on my condolences.” Denver nods, and he leaves us. I watch Danielle’s expression as she notices Samuel—far from the anger I saw the other night. In fact, she avoids his eye.
Denver and I sit again just as the door to the house bangs open. Quickened heels on the foyer floor have us all looking over. A woman appears, dark shades on her face, her long, black hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She’s dressed entirely in black, a heavy, designer coat cinched at the waist, and looks around, her lips set into a tight line as her head whips back and forth.
“Holy shit,” Denver whispers, sitting up, her eyes wide.
The woman spots Ranger and adjusts her handbag, striding over to him. He spots her and scowls.
She slaps him clean across the face.
“You useless fuck! You promised me!”
Ranger takes the hit with a small turn of his head, then levels the woman with an icy glare.
She hits him again.
And again.
“Who is that?” I ask Denver.
Danielle shoves the woman back. “What the fuck is wrong with you? He just buried his son!”
“Our son!” the woman screams.
