Chapter 205
The convoy of police vehicles cut through the rainy streets of the city like a black snake, blue and red lights painting the wat asphalt in strokes of violence. Inside the Maybach, following at a discreet distance behind, the atmosphere was thick enough to choke on.
Skye stared out the window. Her reflection in the glass was ghostly-pale skin, dark hollows under her eyes, wearing a man’s oversed white shirt that led like safety. But beneath the safety lay a cold, gnawing pit of dread. Every time the car hit a hamp, her mind flashed back to the empty room 1208. Her father was out there, alone, likely freezing, while she sat in heated leather ste
“You didn’t answer me,” Alistair said. His voice was low, devoid of the command he used with his men. It was vulnerable, and that terrified her more than the gun he carried.
Skye turned from the window. “Alistair, look at me. I’m a mess. My family just sold me to my x-husband. My father is missing. probably being tortured right now because I failed to get to him in time. I have a target on my back the size of this city. I can’t he… a girlfriend. Girlfriends go on dates. They hold hands in parks. They don’t have body counts.”
Alistair reached across the console and took her hand. His grip was firm, grounding. “Then we redefine the word. I don’t want dates in the park. I want the woman who looked Liam Kensington in the eye and told him to go to hell. I want the partner who pulled me out of a warehouse firefight.”
He squad her fingers. “I’m not asking for normal, Skye. I’m asking for exclusive rights to your chace.”
Skye felt a crack in the walls she had built around her heart. It was a terrifying fosure. Before she could repond, the car alowed.
“We’re here,” the driver announced.
The precinct was a fortress of greystone, currently under siege. The media had beaten them there. Satellite trucks clogged the street. A crowd of onlookers pressed against the barricades, phones and high.
“Ready for Act Two!?” Alistair asked, his eyes hardening as he switched back into war mode.
“Do I have a choice?”
no pracy read on bal.com
“Always,” Alistair said. “We can drive past. Go to the state. Let the lawyers handle it.”
Skyw looked at the crowd. She saw the hunger in their eyes. If she hid now, she was the victim. The poor, broken how
“No,” Skyw said, sitting up straighter. She buttoned the top button of Alistair’s shirt. “We go in the front.”
The car stopped. Security opened the door.
The moment Skye stepped onto the pavement, the noise was deafening. Shouts, questions, the click-whir of cameras, Alistair stepped out beside her, draping his wait jacket over her shoulders, covering the shirt. It was a gesture of ownership and protection that made the crowd go wild.
But there was another commotion near the entranc
Asilver Rolls-Royce was parked illegally on the sidewalk. Beatrice Kensington stood by the precinct doors, looking like a gargoyle carved from spite and diamonds. She was screaming at a desk sergant who looked ready to retire.
“I demand to see my grandson! This is entrapment! Do you know who I am?”
A uniformed officer stepped forward, hand on his belt. “Ma’am, you are currently wearing an ankle monitor. Your hail conditions strictly prohibit you from leaving your residence after 8 PM. You are in violation. Step back, or we will revoke your hand right now.”