Chapter 46

He knew she was gone before he opened his eyes.

Landon rolled over, smoothing his hand over the cold sheet where she should be.

It had been three days since they'd seen the BBC report, two days since they'd left his family farm and come to Manchester, circling back to where this had all started.

Yesterday had been spent at the Interpol NCB offices. It had been weird walking past his desk, knowing it wasn't his anymore. He probably should have packed it up, but by the time they were done with the marathon of follow-up interviews and statements they'd both been exhausted. They'd eaten ramen on his couch and then fallen into bed.

He'd known she would leave. He could see it in her face on those rare moments he caught sight of her unguarded expression. It was grief for a loss that hadn't happened yet, and a grim resolution to see it through.

He tried to head it off, reiterating what Anu had told them, and the additional details Barry had slipped to them, thinking that if she felt safe from Damien and the Bratva she'd stay.

There were no indications that Damien's organization would try to retaliate, at least in part because in the last two days the rest of the organization had been rounded up and arrested by officials in Russia, Estonia, Latvia, and Belarus. Damien's group was effectively dismantled.

There was no one left to avenge Damien, though his rivals would surely rush to fill the hole that had just been created.

Damien himself had survived neurosurgery but slipped into a coma. It was unclear if he would survive. Officials had searched for next of kin to make some hard decisions, but hadn't been able to locate anyone who wasn't currently in prison somewhere.

Novak had been put on temporary leave, but would be arrested in the next few days. The success of his career was apparently due in part to his willingness to sacrifice and use people the way he'd tried to use Colette, while also making deals with the criminals he was supposed to arrest. He'd told Damien Colette was in Interpol's custody, and when kidnappers had been unsuccessful at gaining access to the upstairs of Club Alibi—Landon hadn't known anyone even tried—Novak had done exactly what Landon suspected.

He'd forced Colette out of the safety of the club by making her come to the office, scheduling the meeting to ensure Damien's people had time to set up the ambush.

In exchange for the betrayal, Damien had agreed to let Novak intercept one of his trucks, and paid him several hundred thousand euro. The resulting bust would be enough to put another feather in the cap of Novak's career, and the money was nice too.

Novak hadn't told Damien what Interpol suspected about Colette, for which he was grateful. If Damien had known Colette was a thief, and had lied her way into his house the first time, he might have hurt her worse. Or killed her before Landon could get there.

She'd relaxed as he explained all this, and he'd felt her relief as she slid into his arms.

But that resolute grief remained.

He'd tried to fuck any thoughts of leaving out of her. They had kinky sex using ties and a wooden spoon, since his kit was back in London. He'd fucked her against the wall the way she liked, and finally gotten those scratches on his back he'd wanted, thanks to edging her several times before giving her what she needed to come.

It reminded him of the day she tried to rappel down the building, how she'd been desperate for his touch in the hours before her aborted departure.

Last night, after they'd crawled into bed, he'd assumed just to sleep, she'd slid on top of him, working herself on his cock while her lips hovered over his, occasionally kissing while sharing each breath. She'd whispered that she loved him.

That she'd always love him.

Afterwards she laughed softly as she laid on his chest, his cock still inside her, his hands on her back under the satiny camisole she hadn't taken off. When he'd asked her what was funny, she said, "I think that was vanilla sex."

He'd gotten out of bed only to get a fresh pair of the fuzzy socks out of the pack of five he'd bought, and slipped them onto her feet.

It had been good sex, but the emotional undercurrent, and the look in her eyes, had worried him.

He'd been right to worry.

Landon sat up, looking around his bedroom, which was illuminated only by the morning light coming through a crack in the curtains.

Her suitcase was still here, tucked into a corner of his bedroom. For a minute hope swelled, but the flat felt empty. A quick check showed that her purse and shoes were gone, though there were still clothes in the suitcase. She'd taken only what she needed.

"Fuck." Landon braced his hands on the door frame, his teeth grinding. "Fuck, Colette. You didn't even give us a fucking chance."

He seriously considered punching the door or the wall, as if breaking a bone in his hand would somehow lessen the pain of his heart breaking.

Maybe she'd lied about it all. She'd played him, made him fall in love with her, all so he would protect her. She'd used him to get rid of her enemies and to keep herself out of jail.

It would be so much fucking easier if he believed either of those.

Landon whirled back to the bed, hoping for some sign, some clue as to where she'd run to. Nothing. He turned towards the bathroom, stopping when he spotted the top of his chest of drawers.

The pack of socks was gone.

Landon checked the whole room, even going through her suitcase.

She'd taken what was left of the pack of socks he bought her.

It was the only gift he'd ever given her, and she'd taken it with her when she'd run.

Landon picked up his phone, ready to call…well, he wasn't sure who the fuck to call.

A new email notification popped up. The notification showed the email subject.

Goodbye

Landon opened the email.

I'm sorry to say goodbye this way. You deserve more, and better, than I could ever give you.

I thought about lying, and saying I haven't meant the things I've said and done. I think it would be easier for you if you hated me. But I'm selfish, and I don't want you to think I'm the kind of person who would lie about loving someone.

I do love you, more than I ever thought I could.

I'm leaving because I love you, and because I know that being with me will ruin the beautiful life you have. Because of me, you lost your career. Because of me, Nana and Nani and your father all looked so scared for you. Because of me, you almost murdered a man.

I know you think that nothing but love matters, but I want you to be happy, even if that means ripping out my own heart.

La raison parle, mais l'amour chante, and it's time to stop singing.

Adieu,

Colette

* * *

Colette lay her head back against the plane seat, turning to look out the window. She could see the English Channel, and the coast of either the Netherlands or Belgium. She wasn't sure which, and didn't have the energy to check the flight map.

Her chest physically hurt, and she rubbed it with the heel of her hand. She'd never loved someone before, and so had never had a broken heart. She ached with the desire to beg the pilot to turn the plane around and go back to England.

Her imagination painted a vivid fantasy. Her running through the airport and into Landon's arms. He'd promise her everything would be okay and she'd believe him. In this fantasy her grim childhood didn't matter, nor did the crimes she'd committed. She'd get a job at a jeweler or a museum. He'd go back to Interpol and they magically wouldn't care that he was married to a suspected thief.

It was a lovely fantasy, but just a fantasy.

Tired of being alone with her thoughts, she picked up her new untraceable phone, sliding in ear buds. She'd purchased wifi for the flight, and planned to find something to watch.

A number one was superimposed on the email icon.

The only email account on this phone was the new, heavily encrypted one she'd set up to send Landon the goodbye note.

She hesitated, not wanting to read his angry, hurt reply. Not wanting to see the beginning of the end of his love for her rendered in pixels.

Throat dry, she opened the email.

Remember what I told you. This time consider it a threat.

Au revoir,

Landon

Colette stared at the phone. That was…not the response she expected.

Remember what I told you. When, exactly? He'd told her a great many things, so what was he referring to…

I'll always find you.

He'd said that to her several times. When he rescued her, and she'd barely dared hope he was really there, and then again the night they checked for her new hard limits.

Except instead of a promise, apparently she was supposed to consider those words a threat.

He was going to look for her.

Colette's traitorous heart leapt, but she squashed the hope before it could root.

She should delete the email. Nothing good could come of replying.

But her self-control wasn't perfect, because before she could stop herself, she typed out a quick reply and hit send.

* * *

Landon stormed into the club, taking the stairs two at a time and shoving his key into the elaborate lock.

Andrei was lounging on one of the couches, sunlight streaming around him, a laptop propped on his thighs.

Good, Andrei was the one he needed. Landon had been slightly worried they might have changed up the schedule, but it looked like Rolf had gone home, and Andrei was here for his official week. Rolf had extended his time in London to help Landon, but eventually he did have to go back to work to do the non-BDSM club part of his job.

"Landon." Andrei arched a brow, gaze flicking behind him. "Where's Colette?"

"Gone."

"Gone kidnapped, or gone left you?"

Landon snarled. "Gone because she thinks she's ruining my life and is doing fucking noble sacrifice."

"That's irritating."

"Exactly! I need you to help me find her. Can you track an email?"

Andrei sat up. "Of course."

"Here." Landon passed over his phone. Colette's latest email, a reply to his reply, was open on the screen.

You think you can catch me this time? You're good, Landon.

But I'm better.

Adieu,

Colette