5. Raleigh

CHAPTER 5

Raleigh

As soon as the door closes behind the three gangsters, I quickly pull on my panties and slide down to the floor. My buzzing fingertips can’t even feel the fabric of my dress as I yank it on, leaving the zipper undone because I can't manage to grip anything. Derrick steps back from me, giving me precious space, and starts carefully pulling his clothes back on. I curl into a ball, desperate to reclaim some sense of security, but it’s not enough.

My entire body feels like an exposed nerve. There’s a throbbing heat between my legs that feels so, so good, but it’s also something I don’t want to share. I need time to process what just happened, alone and in my own bed.

That was my first time. And it happened against a dirty wall, in a dirty little room, with a man who’s my enemy, and two other men watching, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

Even worse? I might not live long enough to have a second, better time.

The desperate need to cry is welling up inside me, and if I hold onto it for too long, I’m going to scream.

“You know what’s funny?”

I jump at the sound of Derrick’s voice. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed facing me, his elbows resting on his knees. His smile is open and amused, almost carefree.

How the fuck can he smile after what we just had to do? There’s still blood crusted to his face, and bruises all over his body.

And he’s waiting for a fucking answer to his question.

“What?” I hear myself say, my voice small and hoarse.

Derrick looks down at the floor, then back at me. “I thought you were the one who was going to jump me when we got to my house.”

Suddenly I remember his last words before everything went to hell. He’d accused Thomas of sending me to seduce him, and asked if I was going to call my men in. The irony is so bitter, I have to spit it out.

“Something like that,” I admit.

Derrick’s eyebrows rise. “Really?”

I keep my voice so quiet he probably has to read my lips to know what I’m saying. Silver might be gone, but god knows if there are cameras or mics in this room. “I knew who you were right away,” I say, and roll my eyes. “My big brother caved your face in. How could I not?”

And since we’re probably going to die before the day is up, I add, “I was going to get revenge for him. Ruin your life, the works. After I got laid for the first time.”

I don’t have the courage to watch Derrick’s face when I say this. His dead silence is bad enough to hear. After a long moment, he finally chokes out, “That… that was your first time just now?”

He sounds so horrified, so pitying, that a tight ball of heat forms in my chest. I don’t need his sympathy, and I don’t want it either. “It was about time,” I say brusquely. “I’m twenty-five.”

The stinging in my eyes is getting worse. I sniff, affecting disinterest, but it sounds too thick to be believable.

Derrick is quiet for another long moment. Then he says, slowly, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” I say, too fast. For the first time I look him in the face.

Derrick’s blue eyes are shadowed by his frown. The loss of his smile… makes my stomach pinch.

“It wasn’t so bad,” I say, totally inadequately. I’ve always been allergic to saying reassuring things, but that might be worthy of a trophy. “I mean- you made it easier.”

It’s not remotely what I want to say, doesn’t cover how incredible I felt when he gripped my neck and made me come, but it’s all I have.

Derrick’s smile doesn’t return, but he cocks his head, considering me. “You should come sit on the bed. It might be a little cleaner than the floor. At the very least it’s more comfortable.”

I smile painfully. “No thanks.”

“Raleigh,” he whispers, almost scoldingly. “I can help you zip up your dress. Come on.”

Feeling too hot, I slowly unfold off the floor and go toward the bed. My whole body prickling, I turn my back to him, holding my dress against my body.

His fingertips are warm as they feather over my skin. He zips me up, but doesn’t let his hands linger.

It’s too much to sit beside him, but I should stay close so it’s easier to talk. Compromising, I go around the mattress and sit so that our backs are to each other. We stay like that in silence for a second, but Derrick is again the one to break the silence.

“How were you planning to ruin my life?”

I’m so glad I’m facing away from him. “I hadn’t really gotten that far,” I admit.

He makes a sound, like a stifled laugh, then falls silent again. After a while, he speaks again.

“Twenty-five is really young. You shouldn’t feel ashamed that you only just had sex now.”

I swallow against the heat in my chest. “You did a good job just now. Don’t ruin it by patronizing me.”

“I’m not,” he says behind me. “I’m only telling you- it’s not bad that you waited.”

I snort. “I didn’t wait . I literally wasn’t allowed to. You think my old man let me leave the estate on my own, much less date? And if I did ever sleep with a guy, do you think he would’ve been allowed to live?!”

Derrick goes quiet again. The bed shifts beneath me, and I feel his heat at my back. I sense him glance over his shoulder, his voice is barely a whisper at my neck. With perfect placidity, he asks, “Do you think Thomas will let me live?”

I’m so glad my brother has better things to do right now, like leave for his fabulous European honeymoon with my best friend, Clara. Still, I don’t want to let Derrick completely off the hook. I turn my head, to him, and realize we’re almost cheek to cheek. “You should be more worried about Silver letting you live,” I murmur. “Speaking of which, you do know I’m ratting you out if you take that freak’s deal, right?”

“Why do you think I didn’t take it in the first place?”

Something occurs to me suddenly, and I raise my eyes to meet Derrick’s. He’s so close we could kiss again, if we were feeling stupid and desperate enough.

“Why didn’t you tell Silver who I was? You could’ve told him to use me as a hostage instead of bullying you.”

For what I realize is the very first time, Derrick shows me he’s angry about what I’ve said. His lip curls, his eyes bright like blue fire. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things to get where I am today,” he says, low and even. “But throwing a young woman to a bunch of street thugs who I can only assume mean her harm will never be one of them.” He leans closer, and his voice trembles with conviction. “I promise you, Raleigh. I don’t care who you are. I’m doing whatever I can to get you out of this alive.”

I never expected a two-faced politician like Derrick Lindman to have such a chivalrous streak. Clearly I struck a nerve, and I almost apologize for it- but then the sound of gunshots explodes in my ears.

I dive forward onto the floor, and I hear a thud that says Derrick’s also hit the deck. The door to our room is still closed, but there are multiple guns firing just outside. People scream- in pain, in fear- and I flash back to when I was fourteen and listening to my home burn down above my head while I cowered in a bunker. My heart freezes in my chest.

I have to hide, but the only thing in this room is the grubby mattress resting on a metal frame. Even if I crawled under there, it’s the first place anyone would look, and then I’d be trapped.

Derrick, crouched low, comes around the bed toward me. “Whatever happens, stay behind me,” he says, planting his body between me and the door. His back presses against my chest, and I grab onto him, forgetting his bruised ribs. He inhales hard, but doesn’t complain, and my limbs are too stiff with fear to let go anyway.

Outside the door, the gunshots are getting closer. They’ve become a wall of sound, pounding against my ears and making my bones tremble.

If I’m about to die right now, I have to say it.

“Thank you,” I gasp. I don’t even know if Derrick can hear me over the noise. Maybe he just feels my breath on his neck, because he turns his head to listen better. Into his ear I say, “Thanks- for making me feel safe.”

The gunfire stops.

Hurried footsteps start moving through the house. I hear two voices going back and forth with each other, but they’re quiet and muffled through the door. Someone moans, but is quickly cut off. Doors slam open.

Someone is going through the house, killing anything that makes a noise.

My breaths are so fast now I think I’m going to hyperventilate. Derrick reaches back to me, gripping my thigh hard.

“It’ll be okay-”

The door in front of us explodes off its hinges. I shriek, clinging to Derrick in a death grip.

A man stands on the other side, lowering his leg from the donkey kick that broke the door down. From beside him, a woman with platinum white hair, warm brown skin, and a gun rushes in- aiming directly at us.

As soon as she comprehends us, two people huddled against the wall of a dirty room, her barrel jerks up toward the ceiling.

I know her.

“Iris!” I scream.

I don’t remember moving, don’t remember tearing myself out of Derrick’s grip and running toward her. All I know is Iris’s arms enveloping me and her gasping my name with relief. She pulls away just enough to cradle my face in her hands and meet my eyes with her deep black ones. In this moment, I’ve never seen a more beautiful person.

“Are you hurt?” she demands, already looking me over herself. She spots bruises on my arms, takes in how pale and shaky I am in her arms. Her professional demeanor can’t hide her concern- or her fury.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay-” I keep repeating it, babbling helplessly. Iris tears off her crisp black blazer and drapes it over my shoulders, bundling me up like a baby. It helps, but I’m still shaking.

“What the fuck is the sheriff doing here too?”

The rugged man, who I finally realize through my panicked haze is Paul Zakharov, Iris’s husband, stands over Derrick. The gun in his hand isn’t pointed directly at Derrick, but it would take a fraction of a second to aim, so Derrick remains in his spot on the floor.

“W-We were grabbed t-t-together,” I manage to say through teeth that are chattering. Iris rubs my shoulders and back hard, trying to fend off the panic rising in my chest. She must realize it can’t happen here, because she tells Paul,

“Bring him. We’ll sort this out at the estate.” She looks Derrick over, her long lashed eyes flicking over his body with predatory judgment. “Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Lindman?”

Derrick looks between Iris and Paul warily. He knows Iris personally as my brother’s right hand, and can’t be too happy that she’s his rescuer. But he shakes his head, probably realizing it doesn’t matter what he thinks anyway. Paul holds out a hand, the one without the gun, and Derrick accepts it, letting Paul pull him to his feet. Iris guides me out of the room- and I step into a hallway filled with bodies.

They’re all wearing nearly identical clothes to Silver and his two thugs. I can’t even tell if these men are one of the ones I’ve seen before.

I can’t even tell if one of them is Silver himself.

“Did you get them all?” I ask Iris.

We pass through the hall and into the living room, as dingy as the bare room Derrick and I were locked in. There are a few more bodies here, but no matter how closely I look at their hooded and masked faces, I can’t tell if one is Silver.

Iris leaves my side only long enough to drag a knife through the dusty curtains, cutting one down to wrap around me. She’ll turn me into a walking burrito if I let her, but I don’t mind. The heat is finally starting to calm my shakes. “We killed everyone we saw,” she says. “I probably should’ve left one alive for questioning but-” She shrugs tightly, and I realize just how angry she really is.

Iris doesn’t act emotionally. Of all my brother’s men, she’s probably the one with the highest body count and the least likely to be caught in the act. But she mowed through this entire house to get to me.

I shiver and rest my head against her shoulder, holding my dingy curtain tight around myself.

Iris doesn’t blink at this unusual show of affection. She wraps an arm around me, and keeping me safe in her grip, leads me out of the house, Derrick and Paul following in our wake.