Page 99 of InfraRed

The tattooed man drops beside us, looking at Graham and Uncle Henry first, then at me. From here, I can see his two-toned eyes, and they’re filled with understanding. “I’m sorry,bella ragazza. You can’t take her. No one can know what happened.”

“Wh-why?”

“Because there were a lot of laws broken and too much explaining to do. It’s best if we pretend it never happened,sì.”

“How do I do that?” I whisper.

Graham presses his lips to my temple, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You won’t,” he says against my skin. “You’re not capable, but no one else can know. Okay, baby?”

I swallow hard around the turmoil in my throat. “Wh-what will you do with her?”

Another look passes between the men. “I’m not sure you want to know,dolcezza,”he admits. When Graham growls, he turnsto him. “I won’t lie to her. It’s not what I do. You want it sugarcoated, then you answer the questions.”

“You didn’t give me a chance,” Graham spits, then looks at me. “Baby, your mom will be cremated. The evidence has to be destroyed. I’m sorry.”

I look at the man beside us, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Can I have her ashes?”

His head tilts to the side with curiosity. “Why would you want them? She’s why you are here? Why would you want her remains—to hang on to memories as if she was someone deserving of your care?”

“Because she was my mom.” I sniffle as I wipe my cheeks. “She wasn’t a good mom, but she was stillmymom. The only one I had. I loved her despite her not loving me.”

His multicolored eyes look at me as if I’m some alien creature, narrowed and curious as he tilts his head to the other side. He turns his attention to the others around us who all shrug before returning his gaze to me, nodding once. “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make promises.” He jerks his head at me, then toward the SUV. “Get her out of here. We’ll be right behind you.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Graham says as he scoops me into his arms, holding me tight.

“I can walk,” I assure him.

He shakes his head, placing his lips against my forehead, bringing me closer to him, though I’m unsure how. “No.” It’s a simple word that carries a lot of weight. He’s not ready to let me go. I don’t convince him otherwise because I’m not ready to let go either.

Graham

Idrive the entire way to the resort with Casey in my lap, unwilling to let her go. Probably not smart. Definitely not safe. But I don’t care. The thought of letting her go is physically painful. I’m not sure how I will ever let her out of my sight again.

I don’t use the valet at the resort, instead opting to notify security I was on my way so they could let us in through a private entrance in the back. When the elevator opens to my suite’s floor, I barely suppress my groan.

Liam is pacing outside the door, holding an ice pack to his face as Maddox leans against the wall, watching him. It doesn’t take much to know what the ice pack is for or who is the cause, considering how they glare at each other.

I don’t blame Liam for being there, though I can guess how he was kept back. But I’m not in the mood for him, and I don’t want Casey to endure his questions.

The moment he spots us, I see every word he wants to say. I shake my head and tell him not now. All I want is to get Casey in the room, cleaned up, and in bed. She is exhausted, barely able to keep her eyes open.

I ignore him as he follows us into the room. Pretending I don’t hear him cursing as I move straight to the bedroom.

The moment the door closes behind us, I carry Casey to the bathroom and begin removing her clothes and jewelry. I start the shower, knowing she would never make it through a bath.

While the water heats, I remove the pins from her hair, raking my fingers with slow and gentle strokes through the intricate braid, massaging her scalp. She leans into my touch, softly moaning, and I remind my other head it isnotthe goddamn time. Even if all I want to do is get lost in her body to reassure myself she is here, she is okay…she is mine.

She shivers as I lead her into the shower. I move her so she gets the full effect of the hot spray over her body. My eyes leave no area of her body unchecked as I carefully scrub her. She will have some bruising on her face where she fell and where Krisa slapped her earlier in the night. There are scrapes all over her legs and arms and a few more bruises, but physically she seems fine.

Her eyes meet mine, red and puffy from crying and from the debris that was in them. They look sad and tortured, and I expect no less. What I didn’t expect was for her to reach for my face and bring our lips together as she pressed herself against me. When I don’t kiss her back, she pulls away from me, confusion written all over her face.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks, her eyes filling with tears.

That’s all it takes. I’ve seen her tears all night. They streamed down her face with fear and relief as I held her in my arms because she was safe. They spilled over her lashes for a mother that didn’t deserve them.

Her tears are always my weakness.

I grab each side of her face, slanting my lips over hers, tasting her sorrow and her love. My tongue searches and explores her mouth as her arms loop around my neck. Though unrushed, the desperation is still there.

---