Five Minutes Late: A Billionaire Romance (68 page)

“Devon, don’t –”

“Ah, but I must, lovely Ashley. Think of it as fate coming round for a payment which is long overdue – a simple business arrangement between myself and the dark forces governing our existence, to put it another way.”

He hesitated – just a bit, just one tiny breath held a second too long, but I heard it. Then I heard keening wind howling above the sound of his breathing.

“Devon, where are you? Are you still at the office?”

“Ashley, you know perfectly well where I am – I’m standing on the roof of Killane Corporate Holdings, looking down at a drop which is much greater than the mere 245 feet of open air beneath the Golden Gate Bridge.”

I saw him up there. I pictured him standing all alone in the freezing air as the demons inside his head, the terrors put there by so many years of neglect and abuse and pure inhuman shittiness, closed in to destroy him.

White-hot panic screamed at me, but I shoved it out of the way. Fuck panic. Your guy needs you, Ashley, so man up and stop this, right here and NOW.

Don’t let him leave you.

“Devon, no. I know you’re upset, but –”

“I’m quite calm at the moment.”

A pause, and did I hear his footsteps crunching in the snow, as the wind dropped down to a whisper?

“My, it’s cold up here. I’m quite glad I thought to put on my cashmere overcoat.”

Then I heard that skip in his breathing again, that hesitation that I knew came from more than the cold, and I made an inspired guess.

“But you did have an attack earlier, didn’t you? After I left?”

That long, shuddering sigh told me I was right.

“Yes. Quite a bad one, actually … but I’m feeling much better now.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“Ah, but I sent you away, remember? So like so many other things, that was entirely my fault. But in any case, I must be going now – well, I suppose that’s a terrible way to put it, under the circumstances, but it is the truth.”

Brisk, business-like, decided – there was no more hesitation in that voice.

Not quite.

“Devon, look, I can be down there in, I don’t know with the snow and all, maybe an hour? Just hang on until I get there and we’ll talk, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Ashley, I promised that when this day and this time came, I would call you. I have done so. I did not promise to wait until you got here.”

I locked the panic and the fear and the crying into a box deep inside me, and I just breathed.

I listened to him breathing.

Thirty seconds that lasted forever passed, and we breathed together.

Then I heard him whisper.

“Ashley?”

“Talk to me, Devon. Please.”

Another few empty, breathing seconds drifted by.

Then he said it.

He said the words he’d never said. He said the words that had always been inside him, and he said them in a firm, clear voice, without a drop of hesitation or doubt.

He said the four deadliest words I could imagine.

“Ashley, I love you.”

Then he hung up.

44. No Time

Was I too late?

There was no way to know and no time to worry about it – there was just me, Devon, and a snowbound city between us. I had to make it across that city, I had to somehow cut the travel time I’d guesstimated at sixty minutes down to no minutes, and any obstacles in my way would have to be crossed, dodged, outsmarted, or blown the hell up, whatever.

Obstacle One was Mom. I dropped the phone into my pocket, I turned to yell something vague and comforting about why I was bolting out the door – and there she was, right behind me and throwing my coat over my shoulders.

She hadn’t heard my little apocalypse of a conversation, but somehow she knew – chalk it up to Mom radar, but somehow she knew her only daughter had to charge out into a blizzard on a rescue mission, and there she was to help me into my coat and boots, and to deliver a hug that squeezed the breath right out of me.

She hugged hard enough to put my ribs in danger, she spoke right into my ear, and that shaking voice told me she was holding back way more that she wanted to say.

“Ashley, baby, please be careful – okay? I’ll hold the fort here, you just go do whatever you have to and call me when you can, all right?

I thought about telling her I couldn’t see any way to do this – whatever ‘this’ was going to involve – and be careful, but seconds were flying and I just didn’t have the time.

Obstacle Two was Jimmy, and he figured to be a much tougher opponent. That giant staring man was loyal to Devon like your fingers are loyal to your hand, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out that his ‘instructions’ said to not let a certain big girl go anywhere and to tie me up and sit on me if he had to – and I knew Jimmy would follow Devon’s instructions right down to the last letter and period.

I didn’t have a minute to spare for tiptoeing around the subject or delicate psychological ploys or reasoned arguments or begging, so I went for the direct approach – I slogged down the front walkway, stood by the front passenger door of the SUV, and hammered on the tinted window with my fist.

Two seconds ticked past before the window rolled down. Wasting not another breath, I clambered up onto the running board, hooked my elbows over the open window, and leaned inside.

“Jimmy, listen.”

Jimmy turned his head and stared.

“Mr. Killane told you to not take me anywhere, right?

Jimmy nodded.

“Swell – so if I drive, it’s me taking you somewhere, and your instructions don’t say anything about that, right?”

Jimmy stared some more.

I watched him think it over, I felt the seconds hammering away with my heartbeat, and then he nodded again.

But then he spoke, in that high, piping, breathy little voice.

“Mr. Killane wants me to protect you. If I let you drive in these conditions, that would not be protecting you.”

Jimmy went back to staring.

I did NOT have time for this crap.

“Jimmy, so help me, if you do not either drive me downtown to Killane Corporate Holdings or let me drive, I will start walking. I will walk until I find somebody to carjack, and then I’ll drive anyway, probably with the police or the National Guard chasing after me, and I’ll end up either stuck in a snowbank or locked up in a jail cell. What will Mr. Killane think if you let that happen?”

That stare, and then that strange high-pitched voice again.

“You wouldn’t be able to walk that far in this snow. You wouldn’t hurt somebody and take their car.”

Don’t you just hate it when people shoot down your ideas by being practical and right?       

Ashley, goddammit, think.

I did, and I remembered. I remembered Devon on the phone, all those hours ago. He told Jimmy to follow his instructions, sure, but then he also told Jimmy not to worry – so that meant those instructions had bothered this silent, staring giant.

Jimmy knew something was wrong – not what, exactly, but he knew.

He knows this situation is all wrong and he’s loyal to Devon – so use those facts, Ashley, and get moving.

I scraped my brain for what to say, and then it hit me.

“Jimmy, do you remember when you worked security at that nightclub? Dealing with lots of loud, drunk assholes, assholes who laughed at you like hyenas if you dared to open your mouth and say something? And you remember an evening when a certain tall, pale guy showed up, with a bitchy Hollywood slut on his arm – a decent, understanding, not-drunk guy who spoke to you like a person, who spoke to you in your own language? A guy who hired you away from that terrible place, but who treats you like his brother and not his employee?”          

He stared.

“I remember.” He considered a moment, and then added, “That woman was awful. You’re much nicer. You care about Mr. Killane.”

“We both do, Jimmy, and now he needs us. He needs me at his side, right now, to save him from … well, to save him from something terrible that’s going to happen, and he needs you to look past what he told you to do. He needs you to find the courage to help him instead, right now, this second, and the only way you can help him is by taking me downtown. Will you please take me to him?”

One more desperate moment passed while he stared at me and said nothing. Then somewhere inside that giant frame, Jimmy found the courage Devon and I needed him to have.

“Climb down. I’ll open the door.”

Seconds later, we lurched away from the curb and into the storm.

Imagine a new ice age dropping into your town for a not-so-friendly visit. Visualize snow drifting higher by the minute, while an arctic wind shakes the trees and whistles between the buildings. Picture sliding down empty streets because nobody but you is crazy enough to be driving, and think about slaloming around corners while keeping an eye out for National Guardsmen. Now, imagine all of that standing between you and saving the love of your life, and you’ve got a rough idea of my trip downtown.

Jimmy saved us again and again.

I’d driven down snowy Chicago streets for years, but my winter driving skills paled next to those of the silent giant beside me. Jimmy nudged us around abandoned cars, between drifts, and down the few streets that had seen a snowplow, working out a winding and improvised route that took us into the heart of the city.

He teased us around turns and down narrow byways like a pro, getting us past obstacles that I know would have sent me spinning like a top into something immovable and final. We did hit the occasional slick patch here and there and shimmied around some of the corners, but between Jimmy’s steady maneuvering, a four-wheel-drive transmission, a set of heavy-duty snow chains, and the traction we got just from the SUV’s massive weight, the trip started to look doable.

The trip stopped looking doable when we hit our first National Guard roadblock.

We were so close. The downtown skyscrapers loomed just ahead, barely visible through the thick curtains of falling snow – I couldn’t make out the summit of the hundred-story-plus giant displaying the logo of Killane Corporate Holdings, but I knew it was up there.

Was Devon still up there?

Down where we were, a barricade blocked the street. A National Guardsman stood by the driver’s side door, and I gave the guy credit for not bolting or freezing up when Jimmy opened his window and stared down at him.

“Sir, we’re under a snow emergency here – all of downtown is blocked off while the plows clear the streets, and I have to strongly advise you to get off the road and indoors until this thing blows over.”

Jimmy stared at him. I could just make out the Guardsman’s face from where I sat, and the goggle-eyed kid looked like he was new to shaving, much less snow emergencies and enormous staring Samoans – but he held his ground.

He held his ground, he was armed, and he had the half-dozen other armed Guardsmen manning the barricade to back him up.

Jimmy stared at the guy some more, just on general principles, and then he oh-so-slowly turned his head and stared through the windshield at the barricade. It consisted of a line of black-and-white-striped sawhorses flanked by camouflage-patterned Jeeps on either end, and it did look a little flimsy.

The other Guardsmen saw him staring, and got a whole lot more alert and nervous. They all slid their hands closer to their weapons, and I saw one of them reaching for a two-way radio.

I hissed so the Guard guys couldn’t hear. “Jimmy, NO. I appreciate the thought, but if you run the barricade, you’ll be arrested and I’ll be stranded. We’ll just have to find another way, that’s all.”

He nodded. Then he put the SUV in gear, got the lumbering metal monster turned around, and we headed back the way we came. One trip down a side street later, we once again turned towards downtown.

And met another roadblock.

And another on the next street we tried, and the next.

When we stopped in front of our fifth barricade, it became clear that the fine gentlemen of the Illinois National Guard had been chatting to each other about us on those two-way radios of theirs.

The man in camo at this barricade was older, tired, cold, exasperated, and resisted Jimmy’s fierce stare like a champ.

“Sir, every Guardsman in this area is now aware that you are repeatedly violating the governor’s order that all non-emergency vehicles are to stay off the streets until further notice. It’s my duty to let you know that if you show up at one more of our roadblocks, just one, you will be placed under arrest. For your safety and that of your passenger, I must advise you to turn that behemoth around and park it in the first spot you find. Do you understand me, sir?”

Jimmy nodded – he had the guts to take them all on, and the common sense to realize that this would be a bad idea. So we turned around yet again.

Ten minutes later, we parked – meaning we did a combination turn-and-slide into a snow drift that probably had a curb under it somewhere. I jumped down from the passenger side, landed thigh-deep in snow, and struggled clear with Jimmy’s help.

I followed him into the street – a narrow lane between warehouses and an assortment of seedy bars and questionable restaurants – and together we stood staring at the skyscrapers looming so close, and so far away.