In Safe Hands (The Safe House Series Book 1) Read online

  "Alexa, please, you have to tell me what is going on. It's something, isn't it? Something more than just Rockwell. I'll protect you with my life, but I have to know what I'm protecting you from."

  "Michael Paulson," she said, as if they were speaking about completely unrelated topics. "Michael Paulson is the old friend we're going to see? He was your partner? The one you thought was dead? I can't believe I didn't realize it before. Did you know he was alive this entire time?"

  Damian retracted his hand, stunned. "No."

  She understood his thoughts as loudly as if he had just screamed them at her: How do you know Paulson? Damian was already receding from her, rebuilding walls he had let her pass through at double-speed. She had to explain herself now or risk losing him forever.

  "Michael Paulson worked for my father. A solvietnik," she said, trying to keep her voice level. Damian needed her to be strong now more than ever—he needed her to be strong for him so they could both see the truth through to the end. "Paulson was on the take while he was in the CPD, playing both sides for money. Rumor had it he was trying to make enough to disappear. He hid evidence, manufactured cover stories—he did everything my father asked him to and more. I learned this all later, of course. But when it looked like the Feds were working up a case and my father was about to be indicted…"

  Alexa didn't want to continue, but she knew she couldn't stop now. Damian watched the road, but he had a such white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, she thought the cracked plastic might crumble in his hands and send them both hurtling off course. She wanted to reach out to him, as he had to her, but she knew the folly of trying to initiate contact now.

  "… Paulson orchestrated the shootout in the warehouse. He informed the rival gangs separately then went home and put his uniform on like he did every morning. He briefed his fellow officers that he had a lead. He carried you into that massacre, Damian, without a second's hesitation.”

  The car drifted in the lane. Engine revolutions slowed, and the breakneck pace they had captured lost speed. Alexa craned her neck to search the road behind them. For now, there was no one.

  "I knew Michael Paulson was after my father. I never trusted him. I was with my mother and father when we were trying to escape the warehouse—after we realized the whole thing was a trap. It was just supposed to be a routine visit to the property. Paulson came after us. He was aiming for my father. Instead, he hit my mother."

  Damian’s lips were parted, as if he meant to say something, but forgot all language.

  Alexa's eyes misted as she fought against herself. She wasn't going to cry about it again—not now, not ever. "Mom went down. Dad stayed with her until help came. I guess Paulson got spooked after seeing what he had done, and he ran back into the warehouse. I followed him."

  The car slowed more. She knew they couldn't lose momentum. She couldn’t lose momentum.

  "I had only shot a gun once before. But even from across the room—even with all the other guns going off and the bullets riddling the walls around me—I had a clear line of sight. I shot Michael Paulson, the man who killed my mother. The man who tried to murder my father."

  They had stopped driving now. Alexa broke her promise to herself; hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She did nothing to hide them. Her hands remained where they were, folded in her lap. She would finish what she had started.

  "I was in there, Damian. I was in there that day with you. I had no idea until now, but all the pieces are coming together."

  His hands loosened from the wheel. He untwisted the wires between his knees, his motion slow, deliberate, stunned. The engine sputtered into silence.

  But things weren't going to be all right. Damian Stone was never going to touch her again unless he touched her in anger. No. Even now that he knew the truth, Damian would never strike out at anyone or anything around him. He would keep the pain bottled inside until it destroyed him.

  "Rockwell…" He said the name as if extracting a painful thorn from his hand. "Paulson… you…"

  "I have never betrayed you." Alexa’s voice was steady, despite the hopeless tears streaming down her face. "Paulson betrayed you. He kept the truth from you. He led you through the gates of Hell that day and destroyed your life with one final lie: all this time, thinking you were responsible for his death. You never forgave yourself for it, and all the while he lived in hiding. Why would he show his face now if he didn't have something personally at stake? Why confront you after all this time if it didn't have something to do with me or my father?"

  "And where do you play into all this?" Damian's face was clenched as if in agony.

  Alexa wasn't going to let him deflect his anger onto her. She thrust her chin out and met his gaze unflinchingly. "I just want to protect what’s mine. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

  It was only then that she realized their location. They were parked outside the warehouse. The same warehouse where Alexa had gunned down Paulson. The same warehouse where Paulson had risen from the dead. The same warehouse that haunted Damian's dreams every night. Why had he brought them here?

  Michael Paulson.

  A figure stood beside a Jeep parked at the far end of the warehouse driveway. Alexa couldn't see a face, but she knew. She had memorized every inch of that body as it crumbled to the ground from her bullet.

  Her stomach plunged into a free-fall.

  "He's going to kill me." She said it so matter-of-factly that she could scarcely believe the voice belonged to her. "It's true that I did this for my father, Damian, but not for the reason you think. I was never going to testify. If everyone thought I was, my father reasoned that people who were disloyal to him would be flushed out for fear of their names being given up. My father never counted on Paulson still being alive."

  The figure headed their way. They had moments before Paulson reached them. Alexa turned to Damian, desperate for an acknowledgement of her story.

  What she saw shattered her.

  Her protector looked at her with dark, distant eyes, brimming with disgust. His mouth pitched downward, as if he had reached his capacity to accept anything further from her—lies, truths, affection. Alexa had never seen anyone so broken, and it was her fault. The plan was to manipulate things, the way her father always had. To tip the outcome in his favor. She never anticipated that someone honorable would ever believe she was so much more than her father’s legacy.

  Alexa hated herself for what she was about to do next. She couldn't leave Damian, not like this. She leveraged one final moment of shared weakness, maybe the only opportunity she would ever have again to be with the man she loved.

  She threaded her fingers through Damian’s hair and pulled him into her. His lips welcomed hers, slick with tears.

  "I love you," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

  Alexa gripped his hair and butted his head against the steering wheel, knocking him unconscious.

  ***

  Alexa ran for the warehouse. To keep the man she loved safe, she had to leave him behind, far from the mess she had created. Better to live with a hole in his heart than a bullet hole through his body.

  I'm sorry, Damian, but it's better this way.

  He might not ever understand what she had just done—how could he? His heart was full of betrayed friendships and promises, and now she was another hole that he would never find a way to fill. Maybe she would be his new nightmare, the worst betrayal of all.

  Damian had vowed to protect her. Now it was her turn to protect him.

  The approaching figure saw her detach from the vehicle and froze; then, Michael Paulson followed her. A dark object shadowed his right grip.

  She didn’t need a second glance to identify the object.

  Alexa sprinted around the side of the warehouse and found a metal door near the loading dock. Please be open. Please be open. The handle of the entrance gave way under her grip. She let loose a gusty sigh and slipped inside.

  The interior of the building was dark. Moldering wood crowded her nostrils and br
ought her instantly back to the moment of her mother’s death. A wave of nausea gathered in her stomach. Dust motes danced in the faint beams of light that filtered down through the stories-high windows. Alexa avoided these light shafts, skirting along in darkness as soundlessly as she could. Her heart struggled against her ribs. This was not good. She had just trapped herself with a vengeful gunman on her tail, with nowhere else to run. Too horrified at what she had done to Damian to think rationally, she had failed to grab his weapon. Alexa felt like a mouse that had scurried into a deadly trap.

  But she knew the layout, she reasoned. If she could shake Paulson off her, maybe she could still escape with her—

  Two powerful arms grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms, limiting her reflexes.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Alexa twisted and writhed, attempting to drop from her assailant’s grip and lift her arms in one, swift, evasive maneuver. Paulson shoved a knee between her thighs, effectively blocking her only option to break free of someone with far more strength. She thrashed at his eyeballs, solar plexus, groin, leather lapels—anything she could find purchase against, including his lips. When that didn’t work, she inhaled deeply and screamed in his ear.

  Her agonized cry echoed through the largely-empty warehouse, loud enough to render the sonofabitch deaf. Even if she couldn't fend off Paulson from this position, she could fight back her fear. She would not be reduced to a raving, sobbing animal in her final moments. She would never regret the decisions she had made to protect her family. To protect Damian.

  "Get off me, you snake!" She rebelled as Paulson lugged her toward the center of the room. She kicked and dragged her feet, but her attempts to dislodge him prove futile. Her heel finally connected with his in-step.

  Paulson grunted and threw her against an abandoned shipping crate. She landed with a sickening pop of her shoulder joint. Raw, untreated pine boards scraped her forehead and right cheek. Blistering spikes of pain seared her face and neck. She slumped, her head spinning, before dragging herself to her feet with the support of the crate.

  "On your knees, mob whore." Paulson sounded out of breath.

  Inwardly, Alexa smiled. Two years ago, she had been naïve, unprepared. At least this encounter, he got the shit-end of her martial arts training. She squeezed his pathetic face inside her glare. “No.”

  He squeezed the trigger.

  The shot racked her eardrums. A corner of the crate beside her exploded.

  She shook off her cringed reflex, this time full smile.

  “On. The. Floor.” Paulson’s face glistened sweat. When she didn’t respond, his hand shook with the magnitude of a stroke, and he shouted, “Now, you fucking waste of oxygen.”

  “I guess that makes us the same, then. A stone’s throw from Nico Volkov. Nothing at all like your partner. Neither of us deserves that kind of loyalty.”

  Alexa didn’t move. She refused to breathe. If this man wanted to murder her in cold blood, he could do it right here, right now.

  Paulson trained his gun directly at her.

  Alexa closed her eyes and waited…waited…waited.

  Cha-clik. Another bullet loaded.

  Different gun.

  "Drop the gun, Paulson." Damian’s meditative voice filled the warehouse.

  Alexa’s eyes charged open. Her heart ricocheted like a pinball around her rib cage. She wanted to turn, to make eye contact with Damian, but the sudden realization that he had come for her, that there may still be a chance to end this all with hope for the future, streaked panic through every part of her body. Now, she had something to lose.

  Paulson gave an incredulous laugh.

  From her vantage, she watched Damian sidestep to avoid a spill of sunlight from above. His gun was drawn and aimed directly at his ex-partner.

  Paulson scoffed again. "Do not come riding to the rescue for this trash, Stone. Do you have any idea who she is? I bet they tried to hide her identity from you, didn't they?"

  Alexa's eyelids twitched. Paulson’s gun held steady, still leveled at her. Her shoulder felt like it had been ripped from her body, but she refused to move a millimeter.

  "Drop your weapon and step back." Damian's voice didn't waver.

  Alexa squeezed her eyes closed, baring her teeth in a silent sob. Why did he have to come for her? She didn't want him to carry the vision of her gunned down the way he carried Paulson’s fake death.

  "Don't give me your orders, Stone," Paulson shouted. "If I don't get rid of her, she'll destroy my life—and yours. You think Rockwell will accept you back with open arms? You're done, Stone—there's no job, no safe house, for you to go back to.”

  "I swore to protect. Same as you."

  Damian was closer now. An angry gash spilled blood onto his forehead. He sidestepped once more into the shadows, avoiding the next shaft of light, preventing Paulson from getting a clear visual.

  As much as Alexa wanted to see more of him, to gather every final vision from a world that could end at any moment, she refused to track him with her eyes, to give away his location. If she couldn’t survive, she could give him a fighting chance.

  "Nobody's paying you to protect her anymore," Paulson said snidely.

  "It's not about the money, Paulson. But I know it hasn't always been that way for you."

  "Money buys freedom," Paulson stressed. "You think I like living this way? You think I liked being in the pocket of an egotistical sadist like Nico Volkov? It was the only way out for me, Stone. You know what happened to my father—he disgraced himself publicly with that prostitute and died before campaign season even had a chance to start. Do you know what that was like for me, having to mourn the man who failed me in front of all those cameras? It was those fucking cameras that gave him that heart attack."

  "I remember, man. We used to tell each other a lot of things." Damian moved closer to Alexa, but he still wasn't close enough to pull her to safety. "But that tragedy with your father happened over twenty years ago, Paulson. Your past won't follow you if you don't let it. You have a chance to walk away today and start your life over. No one here will stop you. Just go."

  "And live my life, always watching over my shoulder? Mob reach is too far, too absolute, my friend.” Paulson gestured belligerently. "The whole Volkov mob is corrupt, including her. What lies did she tell you to turn you against me like this?"

  "I'm not against you," said Damian.

  Alexa's blood pounded against her eardrums. Her knees struggled to hold her upright. Paulson didn't appear to be listening.

  "How long have you known this woman? Five days?" he exclaimed. "How can you trust her over me? Where’s your unfailing loyalty now?" As if suddenly reminded of his unfortunate errand, Paulson turned from Damian's shadow and lifted his weapon, a renewed commitment to end this in his eyes.

  Alexa had seconds. Less than seconds. She turned and looked straight at Damian.

  "I'm sorry, Damian. I was trying to protect you. I really do love you."

  She closed her eyes.

  Shots erupted.

  CHAPTER 12

  For the second time in his life, Damian watched as Michael Paulson fell. The man's eyes widened in slow astonishment as the gun slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

  Damian lowered his gun slowly, still sighting Paulson, as his former partner collapsed to his knees then forward onto his chest.

  The body of the man he had once trusted above all others stilled.

  Alexa was off the crate in an instant, running toward him before he could holster his weapon. Damian held the Glock at his side. She threw herself against his chest. His free hand cuffed her head and pulled her close.

  He thought he heard her sob his name. She buried her face in his shoulder, her hands clutching the back of his shirt.

  "You're safe now." As much as Alexa may have needed him to steady her in that moment, Damian needed her to hold him close, to ground him in the wake of what he had done. He shut his eyes against the sight of Paulson and lost himsel
f in Alexa.

  "I'm sorry," she repeated, over and over again until Damian holstered his weapon and drew her fully into the fold of his arms. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth. I didn't think you'd understand… my father…"

  “I understand your loyalties are to the people you love. There is no fault in that.”

  The absolution knocked around in the spaces inside his head like discordant notes of a crashing symphony. Though the words were his, he felt them only for the woman he held. Alexa had little choice as to family. But his loyalty to Paulson had been a decision. A foolish decision that almost cost him a chance at true happiness, peace…love. A choice that almost cost him Alexa. The knot in his stomach refused to uncoil. He should have known. How could he allow such blind misplaced loyalty?

  “I’m still Nico Volkov’s daughter. Nothing I do will ever change that.”

  “You’re not your father. He doesn’t have to define you anymore.”

  “How can you ever trust me again?”

  Damian tugged away from her long enough to take her head in his hands, to glide his palms against her cheeks and thread his fingertips through her hair, to see him. Really see him. “You were willing to sacrifice everything, Alexa—your family, your future, this bond we’ve found in each other, Christ, even your life—to keep me alive.”

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “Don’t you see? You sealed my trust the moment you ran into this building.”

  “I’m sorry about Paulson.”

  “Yeah, well…” There were no words. Paulson had everything—the respect his father never had, a brotherhood defined by what was decent and right, a friendship that surpassed blood. All that power, the right kind of power that feeds the soul and leaves the world a better place, just hadn’t been enough for him. “Great trust holds the power to destroy men.”

  “Or to build stronger ones,” said Alexa. Her lips, once frowned in the finality of it all, in her greatest fear of being alone when the world stopped moving, straightened then lifted to a smile that loosened the knot in his gut and hinted at the healing promise of forever.