13. Luke

The gargoyles had their claws in my chest, no matter how quickly I fended them off.

I pushed and screamed and wailed. Yet in they dug, breaking through my flesh, cracking through bone. And I was somehow back at the adventure park parking lot, seconds before the bomb went off. They'd followed me here. Followed us here. And any second, they'd get Elijah too.

"Luke."

Two of the gargoyles had him pinned to the ground. I screamed his name.

"Luke, wake up."

Ran to fight them off, but they were heavy. So much heavier than I could manage. One turned its cold gaze toward me and opened its mouth.

"Luke, you're having a?—"

I woke with a gasp and promptly fell off the couch. My chest heaved, and sweat dotted my forehead. And there was a big, warm presence crouched down next to me.

Elijah.

One giant hand gripped my shoulder to keep me still while his eyes roamed frantically from my face to my body. "Luke, it's me. It's only me. You were having a nightmare. I thought I heard screaming from the hallway and ran in here and you were…"

I scrubbed my hands down my face and tried to rein in my breathing. His fingers flexed into my shoulder, inadvertently hitting a tight spot, and I bit back a groan. Memories from the garden party last night filtered in, rapidly replacing the nightmare, and my breathing hitched for an entirely different reason.

I was napping on the couch in my dad's office because I'd barely slept, kept awake by a fantasy I shouldn't have about a man who saw me as nothing more than a job.

And why wouldn't he? I was Elijah Knight's job and all I'd done was make it hell for him.

But my fantasies had a mind of their own and not one of them cared much for maintaining the professional boundaries of Elijah's contract. I'd gotten one look at the picture of us in the parking lot—a picture fully intended to be a threat, and it was—and gone fucking haywire.

It was the way he'd been scowling in that moment. Lip curled up, practically a snarl, leaning over me with his bunched muscles and coiled restraint. In every fantasy, I curled my fingers into his collar and yanked him down for a kiss I knew would be hot and bruising.

Dangerous in more ways than one.

"I got you some water," Elijah said, drawing me back to the present moment. I lifted myself until I was sitting with my back to the cushions and took the cup, draining it. Then I counted backward from ten.

There were no gargoyles. No claws. No monstrous beast going after Elijah.

When I opened my eyes and turned my head, he was still shockingly close, crouched next to me with concern etched into his brow. For a moment I was simply stunned by his beauty. There were crinkled lines around his dark eyes, a divot in his full lower lip. Not a single strand of auburn hair was out of place. And the heat from his body hit me like a wall, as did that crisp scent of his, mixed faintly with what must have been his detergent.

It was Elijah, whom I'd suspected was queer and who confirmed it last night. Who liked men and was potentially single and who wanted me to know he thought my brother was an asshole.

Each word out of his mouth felt earned somehow. Precious, like glimpsing a pod of dolphins at sunrise.

I had a person in my life who took great pleasure in belittling me whenever he was in a bad mood. The trick was to keep him in a good mood.

The surge of violence I'd felt toward his father surprised me. I'd fucked it up afterward, as usual, but I couldn't let myself get distracted by his stern mouth or how badly I wanted to let him keep me safe. He kept reminding me he had a job to do without understanding that getting out of this shit show was my job.

"Thank you…thanks, it's…" I mumbled. "I used to get nightmares as a kid. Don't get them much anymore but occasionally they pop up again during a poorly timed nap. I'm sorry I scared you." I attempted a smile. "You probably thought I was being murdered in here."

His throat worked on a swallow. "It's fine. You have nothing to apologize for. You're not my first client to have nightmares like that."

An awkward silence settled between us. We'd barely spoken after our argument last night and he'd been polite and almost entirely silent today. I knew I was being shitty and making his job harder—but I also wasn't willing to budge on what I needed to do.

Neither was he. Yet he stayed next to me on the floor now, his broad body blocking most of my view.

"Do you want to tell me what your nightmare was about?" he asked slowly.

I dropped my head back against the cushion with a sigh. "Gargoyles. Specifically the ones out front. My dad had them installed when Preston and I were little and we always hated them. They show up in my dreams sometimes. I was…we were—" His eyebrows raised at that. "We were back in the parking lot with the car bomb and the gargoyles were attacking us both. I couldn't get them off of you. I tried though, I swear."

"That's much appreciated," he said, in a tone that was almost amused.

I cast a glance up at the wall, where there were clear square outlines, indicators of the missing paintings I'd dumped in a hallway closet. "My dad, he…he loved to play these little mind games with us. It's like all the shit with the business, giving me full control while firing Preston at the same time. He enjoyed pitting us against each other to win whatever breadcrumbs of love he could spare that week. He was obsessed with our grades and our performances at school. Whenever I didn't do well, which was all the time in his opinion, he'd withhold things. His attention, mostly." I shrugged. "Food, sometimes. The man definitely believed starvation was a motivator."

Elijah went eerily still next to me. "He starved you?"

"We had to earn that with our grades," I said flatly. "Sometimes I wouldn't earn the right to sleep inside so he'd make me sleep out on that big front porch. Underneath the gargoyles. They always scared me at night."

"That's why you dream about them."

I reluctantly met his gaze, unsure of what I'd find there. And was briefly shocked by something fierce and almost hungry there. "I think that's why, yeah. You ever get bad dreams?"

He hesitated. "Rarely. But yes." He touched the light scarring on his left cheek. "I was in a bad car accident as a kid. Comes back in my dreams."

My stomach knotted as I remembered what he'd said about his dad last night. Smiled through it. Kept his secrets. He had a lot of them.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Elijah," I said softly.

He shook his head. "It's nothing." A faint buzzing drew his attention to his watch. "Ethel and Clarita will be here in five minutes."

"Ah, fuck me," I swore. "Do I look like a hot mess who just screamed himself awake from a midday nightmare?"

"Not at all. You look…" His eyes traced the shape of my face, calling forth a blush. "You don't look a mess."

Then he extended his hand and I took it, appreciating yet again the firmness in his grip. I wasn't a small man, but Elijah hauled me up like I weighed nothing at all. We made furtive eye contact and my heart stuttered to a complete stop.

I opened my mouth to say something. Hey, I was kind of a dick last night, right? Or, I wasn't joking when I said whoever let you go was an asshole, and maybe I want to find out who it was and hunt him down?

Which was pointless. I didn't have any skills in the hunting-someone-down department, yet here I was ready to sign right up for the job.

Elijah released me, putting a conspicuous amount of space between our bodies.

"We should, uh… I'm gonna wait for them outside," I said, raking a hand through my hair.

Elijah nodded without comment and followed me, back down the long hallway of photos, the open windows with sweeping coastal views, the antique chandeliers dangling like death traps.

The estate was vast enough that a person could get quite lonely, wandering aimlessly through rooms and buildings that served no other purpose than decoration, like excess baubles on a Christmas tree. Not one, but two libraries. A tennis court, two pools, a guest house. Sitting rooms, sunrooms, an industrial-style kitchen filled with the staff who worked for my dad and Celine.

I hadn't seen her since the will reading but I knew the house hummed with ambient activity partially because of her. Whether that was because she was throwing polite garden parties or moving out, I had no idea.

She really only ever spoke to Preston, and he hadn't graced me with his belligerent presence since before my meeting with the protest organizers. I was secretly grateful that he hadn't mentioned the assistant hiring again. Since I had no intention of staying, there was no reason to find someone who'd only further solidify my role.

I had made some attempts at tracking down Adrian, the former assistant. The timing of his quitting was too fortuitous for my liking. Plus Preston hadn't hesitated to hire him on for his new real estate venture, which was two strikes in the negative column for me.

But so far, Adrian had sent my calls to voicemail and ignored my messages.

Per my father's unhinged estate plan, my brother only had another week left working here. The part of me that still remembered sleeping in Preston's room after Mom died wanted to take him out for a drink, commiserate about all that had happened, about all that Lincoln Beaumont had done to us. His lies, his schemes, his manipulations, all in service of his narcissism.

I often wondered if Dad pitted us against each other because we were so close. We had been, once. But the tiny flame in my heart that ached for my big brother had been smothered by his obvious disappointment in me, his disdain for my life and what I'd made of it. It was so clearly influenced by working alongside our father for all these years.

I just wasn't sure if the vast distance between us could be crossed.

Once outside, I leaned against the balustrade and slid my hands into my pockets, taking a long inhale of saltwater air. Elijah stood at the ready, with a straight spine and a steady gaze.

"Our contact at the police department has been updated on the threats against you," he said. "Though we've received nothing else of substance. No issues here or at your house. Nothing reported at any other offices."

"No more creepy emails then?" I asked.

"None. And let's hope it stays that way." He shifted on his feet. "Also, I wanted you to know I'll be gone for the next few days. I'm needed back at our New York offices. Once I return, I'll be switching with Ripley and will be on the night shift for a while."

My stomach dipped at the thought of Elijah being close to me after the sun had set.

"You'll be looming over me while I sleep, I assume?"

One brow winged up. "Is that what Ripley does?"

"I think he's outside, near the front door? Honestly, I barely know he's there."

"That is the point, generally. You wouldn't know I was here if you didn't provoke me into conversation as often as you do."

I snorted. "We're working together. There's a difference."

"Technically, you backed me into a corner," he said. "There's a difference."

My face went warm, remembering what he'd said the day I'd signed that contract. Yes, your father could be ruthless. I didn't think you would be as well.

"It's worked out for you, hasn't it?" I countered. "It's been a whole week since my last thrill-seeking activity. No bungee jumps, no skydives, no swimming with sharks. You told me that keeping a client alive helps you keep your job too."

His jaw ticked. "I won't have this job much longer. It's why I'm heading back to the office."

"Uh, what?" I sputtered.

"My director is retiring at the end of next month and he's tapped me as his replacement. You're my last client before I leave the field for good. But I'll ensure you're left in excellent hands."

I leaned too far to the left against the balustrade and almost tipped over. I righted myself with as much grace as I could muster and attempted a lazy shrug. "That's not a problem. If I'm still chained to this company by then, something's gone horribly wrong."

"Regardless, you can trust that your safety will remain my priority."

I gave my most charming smile. "And how fortunate, to be ending your illustrious career in the field with your handsomest client. Some might even say…your best and most favorite client."

"This is based on which criteria exactly?" he asked mildly.

I waved a hand through the air. "This blank, stoic stare of yours. It's obvious how much you love being here with me."

"Yes, my liege."

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, delighted laughter spilled from my lips. "You made a joke."

"Who's to say?"

His lips twitched. I saw it. I fucking saw it. I stepped closer, unable to resist him. But then a "Yoo-hoo" echoed across the massive front lawn. We turned toward what looked like two women riding a tandem bicycle up the long, curving driveway. They wore colorful outfits and had a tiny barking dog in the front basket.

"Those are my dad's former real estate partners?" I asked incredulously.

"I believe so," he said with a nod.

"They're your big clue?"

"You wanted clues, Luke," he said, passing a palm down his perfectly straight tie. "You didn't specify whether they had to be good."