Deep (19 page)

“You can take advantage of me anytime.”

I smiled but didn’t laugh. A sense of melancholy overtook me. An image had formed in my mind of a man—still large and strong, still confident, but instead of a criminal he was some kind of engineer. And instead of fighting the world, he reveled in it.

He caught my chin and lifted. My gaze met his.

“I’m not a criminal because circumstances forced me,” he said softly, his eyes searching mine—for what? For me to excuse him? Or for me to condemn him? “Maybe at the beginning, but there came a time when I had enough money and enough power to do whatever the hell I wanted. I could have walked away. I chose this life instead.”

He didn’t want me to pity him. I could understand that, because I didn’t want him to pity me. “Do you ever regret it?”

“No,” he said, no reserve in his voice. “There are always people trying to back you into a corner. I own every fucking corner. How can I regret that?”

“And who do you back into a corner?”

“You have to ask, kitten?” He leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss against my lips. “You.”

A shiver ran down my spine, like someone walking over my grave. “About last night…”

“Adrian can get you a pill,” he said gruffly.

“Oh…
oh.
” I hadn’t even thought of it, so doped up on sex endorphins and exhausted from him moving in me all night long. “I guess that would be good.”

“You guess?”

Did he think I shouldn’t? I mean, it had been crazy last night, even in a lust-daze. And now it seemed impossible—adding a child to this mixed-up relationship. In a short time, we might not even
have
a relationship. “Yes. Of course. It would be crazy not to. I mean, two weeks ago our only contact was a blank postcard.”

Silence. His body slowly tensed, the way I imagined a panther would feel before striking—motionless to anyone observing, but powerful. Dangerous.

“Philip?” I whispered.

“That’s what I was missing,” he muttered, already pulling away. “Someone else knew about my obsession with you. Someone knew every fucking detail.”

Then he leaped from the bed and was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I
HAD NEVER
been to the basement, but I knew this was where Adrian slept. There was an entire apartment down here—a small living space and kitchen off to the side. Was every safe house equipped with a space like this? The separation of master and servant. So vital until Philip ripped it away.

He’d left the bedroom in a matter of seconds, pulling on slacks but not bothering with a shirt. He was already at the foot of the basement stairs by the time I’d grabbed a tank top and jeans and followed him.

“Wait.
Philip.
”

He ignored me, heading to the right. He may not have visited down here often, but there was no hesitation in his step, no doubt who was the owner of this place.

I made it to the narrow hallway—which was dark until light suddenly exploded from the room.

My feet seemed heavy and sluggish. Even though I was running, it felt like it took forever to reach the bedroom. When I got to the doorway, Adrian was on the floor—on his ass, wearing only a pair of boxers. I had always thought he was on the skinny side, but seeing him almost naked, I could see lean muscle. Combined with a handsome face, he was a great catch for any guy. Except here he was, sleeping alone beneath Philip’s safe house.

Adrian shook his head as if trying to clear the sleep away. “What the hell?”

“What the hell?” Philip sounded furious. “
What the hell?
You told someone, that’s what. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I should put a fucking bullet in your brain. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

Now fear seeped into Adrian’s expression alongside awareness. “I didn’t.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Adrian. Not right now. Not about this.”

Adrian shoved himself off the floor and ran a hand over his face. He paced away a step and then—maybe realizing it wasn’t safe to turn his back on Philip right now—faced him again. “I didn’t fucking tell. I’m not lying to you. I would
never
do that.”

“Who else knew? Are you telling me Shelly told?”

“No, I’m just—” Adrian’s eyes were wild, his breath coming faster. “I’m not saying it was her. I’m just telling you that I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Philip stared, clearly weighing the truth of Adrian’s words. They sounded completely honest to me, and I suspected that Philip saw the same thing I did—the intense loyalty. I wasn’t as sure whether he saw the unrequited love.

Adrian continued in a low voice, nostrils flaring. “And I would never do anything to hurt Ella either. I care about her, regardless of what happens between us.”

The words
between us
seemed to ring in the air, dark and forbidden. There was no shock in Philip, only stillness. “Maybe you were jealous,” he said softly.

I sucked in a breath and stepped into the room. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Adrian had always been kind to me—both when I’d been a broken little girl and now. I couldn’t let him be accused of this without any proof, any more than I could have let Philip invade Shelly’s house with weapons.

“Thank you,” Adrian said, sparing me a reserved glance. Then he looked away from both of us. “I won’t deny that I sometimes felt jealousy. But I would never have acted on it. I would have just quit if I couldn’t take it anymore. I
never
would have endangered Ella. Or you.”

Philip still bristled with unresolved tension. He seemed to believe Adrian—at least, that had to be the case since he didn’t have Adrian up against a wall. But he wasn’t backing down either.

“Maybe you let something slip,” Philip said.

“Who would I tell?” Adrian made an impatient motion. “You’re the only person I see most days.”

Philip was right about one thing. Someone knew about his obsession with me, and someone had used it against him. And against my family. Who could have known? Shelly had been the person closest to the situation back then. Colin and Rose, Philip’s siblings, probably knew as well—but they would be even less likely to tell. They were loyal to him even if they couldn’t always stand to be around him and his controlling ways.

Adrian was the only one who would have known about the more recent events, though—about the postcards. About the stalking. I bit my lip, feeling like I was betraying him for just suggesting it. “What if you let it slip without realizing it? It’s known that you work for Philip. Someone could have taken something out of context and realized.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “No,” he breathed.

Except it didn’t sound like a denial. It sounded like shock.

Philip had his back against the wall in minutes, his broad arm pressed against Adrian’s throat. “Tell me.”

Adrian blinked in a kind of wordless horror. His mouth opened and closed. “There was one guy. Just a random hookup at a club, one night when I was off. I was…” A hollow laugh. “I was in a bad way. I let off some steam. Let him fuck me. Told him about…”

Philip made a growling sound and pressed harder. I ran closer and pulled at his free arm, afraid he would do something terrible in the heat of the moment. “Wait. Let him finish.”

Adrian’s eyes fell shut. When he opened them again, they were full of guilt. “I told him about this guy I wanted. This guy I
loved.
And how it would never happen.
Why not?
he asked. He’s straight, for one thing.
Maybe he’ll like dick if it’s yours.
He was mocking me, but I answered anyway.
He’s hung up on this student at U of C. She’s young, pretty, smart, and has all the female parts.”

I flinched at that description of me, even though it was mostly complimentary. It was the bitterness in his voice. I’d never heard that in him before. He’d always been so upbeat, but I realized now what it must have cost him.

“He had your eyes. Your hair. Even the way you move.” Adrian shut his eyes, defeated, almost in prayer. “God help me, he looked like you.”

A jolt went through Philip’s body. His eyes widened in shock—a strange expression on a man usually so aware of everything before it even happened. He shook Adrian. “What did you say?”

“He looked…like you.” Adrian’s eyes were covered in a sheen of tears. “He was a little smaller. Less broad. But otherwise, he could have been your brother.”

Philip hardened. “You’ll die for this.”

“I swear,” Adrian said, looking Philip in the eye, “I never told him your name and I never told him hers. He may have found out anyway—”

“Of course he fucking did,” Philip hissed. “The bullet. Your brain. One reason not to.”

No.
I pulled Philip’s arm with all my strength and didn’t move him a single inch. “Please.
Please.
Don’t do this. Adrian has been loyal to you. He screwed up maybe.”

“Maybe?” Philip asked sharply.

“Okay, so he did screw up. He did. But it was an honest mistake. A moment of weakness. He never would have wanted you hurt. I believe him.” And Philip didn’t want to kill him. I believed that, because it
had
been an honest mistake, because Adrian had been so loyal to Philip through the years.

“You could have been kidnapped, Ella. I would kill a man for less.”

I swallowed over the knot in my throat. “I know, but this isn’t just a man. It’s Adrian. Please let him go.”

There was a tense moment where Adrian looked resigned. He thought he was going to die, and I wasn’t sure he was wrong. Philip’s entire body was a weapon, straining against the leaner one in front of him. No matter that Adrian was stronger than he had appeared underneath those dapper clothes of his. He wouldn’t have the strength to fight off Philip, not when Philip was in a rage like this. I wasn’t even sure Adrian would want to. He looked miserable with shame.

Abruptly Philip stepped back, and Adrian gasped in a breath.

“Get the fuck out of my sight,” Philip said, his low voice full of menace. “Leave and don’t ever come back. If I see you again, I
will
kill you.”

Adrian’s hands trembled as he pulled some things from the bedside table—a wallet, keys, phone. The air was thick like quicksand, but he moved quickly, quietly, grabbing slacks, a button-down, the formality in contrast to the hurried exit. He sent me a quick glance—almost concerned, questioning—but left the room without saying a word.

Philip stood still and taut. I followed his example, barely breathing.

There was a faint sound from far away, and I pictured Adrian leaving.

It was just the two of us now.

“Will he be okay?” I asked softly, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Philip’s voice was raw. “Do you expect me to care?”

He
did
care, but he would never admit it. And maybe it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the kind of love that Adrian had always longed for.

“Do you know why I let him live?” he asked softly.

I shook my head, almost afraid of the answer.

Dark eyes met mine, and behind them I saw a perfect storm of emotions—fury and grief and burning desire that seared me. “Because I know what it is to long for someone you can’t have. I know how stupid it can make a man.”

And with that he left me standing in Adrian’s cold, empty bedroom to find my way back upstairs alone.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

P
HILIP REFUSED TO
speak to me. He also refused to sleep. I left him with his slacks on and shirt still missing, a glass of scotch in his hand and a scowl on his face.

I couldn’t condemn Adrian for what he’d done, even knowing the horrible consequences. I had spent my entire life seeking connection, family—love. And I had only ended up more alone, caught in the net of people who would hurt me, use me. Sometimes we don’t know which things will hurt us until we’re hurt. We don’t know the devil until we speak his name.

Adrian had lived too long in Philip’s shadow, looking at what he couldn’t touch. He’d sought a moment of solace, and it had ruined him.

Eventually I found a restless, dreamless sleep curled up on the striped sofa where Philip had once pounded into me so hard I still felt his imprint.

I forced myself to get up in the morning, to take a shower, even though the house felt eerily empty. Adrian was quiet—when he wasn’t in a conversation with you—but without him the whole place had turned into a museum.

The strident ring of a doorbell startled me so much I dropped the jeans I was holding. I grabbed them and slung them on, hopping across the bedroom in my haste.

The doorbell had rung three more times before I could make it downstairs and to the door.

No sign of Philip.

Was he still drinking scotch in his study? He wouldn’t be used to answering the door. That was Adrian’s door. Still, it was impossible to miss this doorbell. He must have decided not to answer.

I peered through the peephole, expecting to see Adrian returning to plead his case. Or maybe even the cops. What I didn’t expect was Colin, Philip’s younger brother. Younger, but still hard and rough. He looked more like a construction worker than the restaurateur and devoted family man I knew him to be.

There were three locks, but at least they all opened easily from inside.

Colin didn’t look surprised to see me. “Are you okay?” he asked without preamble.

“Of course,” I said, too surprised by the question to answer with anything but the truth.

“And Philip?”

My heart sank, remembering the veiled devastation on his face. He wasn’t a man who trusted easily—and he had trusted Adrian. “Not okay.”

He nodded. “May I come in?”

“Oh. Yes.” I took a step back and gave an embarrassed laugh. Colin had as much right to be here as I did. More actually. “This isn’t my house.”

Grim amusement crossed his face. “Philip might not agree. He wouldn’t let just anyone answer his door. Where is the bastard?”

I suspected that had more to do with his current mental state than any permissiveness on his part. “I’m not sure. Maybe his study. The one behind the—”