Page 61 of Soul Of A Villain

He knew that from personal experience. Over the years, the number of men close to death at his hands always knew when someone was close by. And it didn’t matter if it was a loved one or someone they feared and hated. Theyalwaysknew.

Londyn sniffled, nodding in agreement and sinking into the chair beside Paris’s bed. She took her sister’s hand and began talking in a low voice that Oliver would have had to strain to hear. Whatever she was saying was something he had no business listening to.

He retreated from the room, leaving Londyn there. Pacing down the hallway, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made two phone calls: one to a private hospital transport company and one to Neil, a physician hired by his father long ago to attend to the family’s maladies and a trusted friend of both his and Kingston’s. Neil would know exactly what to do and who to hire for Paris’s extended care in New York.

Once that was done, he dialed Kingston’s number, unable to contain his own rueful chuckle when his brother answered. Kingston’s tone was hesitant, expecting bad news because, after all, Oliver never called him up voluntarily or just to chat.

“O? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Everything is fine at the moment, King—no need to call on the troops just yet. I just wanted you to know I took your advice, brother. I married her, and we’re coming home. I’ll explain more when I see you.”

ChapterThirty-Four

Londyn

Londyn sat quietlyin the car. After wringing herself dry with tears, she had nothing left. She felt numb. Tired. Sad.

The exhausting emotions had her on a roller coaster, but what she felt most strongly was fury. What happened to her sister shouldneverhave occurred. It was made worse by the fact that the man responsible, the man Londyn swore would pay for his actions, would never know justice at her hands.

And her sister would die. Seeing Paris’s condition and hearing the grim prognosis from the doctor on his late-night rounds, Londyn realized the inevitable. Even if transferred to a better facility, with better doctors and better treatment, Paris would likely never recover. Despite the expert care, she was slowly wasting away. The stroke, the overdose’s aftermath, and the beating she endured were all too much for her battered body.

Londyn swallowed a choked sob. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Her sister, her defender, her protector, and cheerleader deserved so much better—so much more than a wasted life at the hand of a monster like Adam Franklin.

Oliver was deathly silent. Londyn figured he was giving her space as she struggled to accept the reality of her sister’s fate. A few times, she glanced his way, noticing how the muscle ticked in his jaw whenever the car was illuminated by streetlights. He had denied Londyn’s second plea to remain with Paris while assuring her that arrangements were in place to fly her sister to New York the following day.

It’s not enough. Paris needs me.

Oliver reached for her hand. Londyn considered pulling away, but with a small sigh of resignation, she let him entwine their fingers together.

“Are you okay?”

She jumped, his voice startling her. With her free hand, she absently tugged at the choker around her neck before replying, “I’m not sure. I don’t think I am. It’s just… it’s a shock. Seeing her like that.”

“I know.” He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. Tiny, soothing circles that were surprisingly effective in relaxing her a little. Occasionally, he passed over her wedding ring. A jarring reminder that they were actually married.

“I wanted to stay with her.”

“I know you did. But I couldn’t let you do that,” he said, almost apologetically. “I can’t take the chance that something will happen to you. You are in danger, Londyn. Far more than your sister is.”

Londyn turned her head, looking out the window into the blackness of the passing landscape. When Oliver said things like that, like she really was important to him, it made her stomach swoop. It made her feel like he truly would do whatever necessary to keep her safe, even if he went about it in the most infuriating way. “You promise she’s being moved to a facility where I can visit her whenever I want?”

“Yes, dove. I promise.”

The road they traveled was a winding, sparsely lit, two-lane stretch. It was the same highway they’d traveled to the care facility. Londyn knew from growing up here that the road was treacherous, with hidden driveways and intersections that only required stopping for approaching side traffic. But Oliver maneuvered the car through the curves as if he’d been driving the area and this particular road his whole life.

“Where will I live?” Londyn asked softly.

“You’ll live with me.” A smile was evident in his tone as if her question were almost too silly to warrant an answer. “Do you really think I’d allow anything else?”

“But where?”

“The Den,” Oliver explained firmly. “It might seem strange at first; believe me, I once felt the same, but the mansion is enormous. We can go days without seeing anyone else if we want to. One section of the house is set aside for my use, although I’ve rarely used it. I’ve kept on the move as much as possible over the last few years. It will be different now, though. Kingston and I… we’ve been working through issues that go back a long way, but I understand him more than ever before.” He squeezed her hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with a soft kiss. “And his fiancé, Ava, she’s a very special girl. The two of you will become friends in no time. Both of you are easy to love.”

Londyn froze at his unintentional use of the word, but Oliver continued as if he’d not just insinuated he might actually love her. “And there’s always the cabin in Colorado if we want a change of scenery. Or some privacy so we can spend time alone with one another.”

“You’ll be with me, then?” She could not help or hide the trembling hope in her tone.

“Of course.” The look he gave her then was dark. Intense. “You are my wife, Londyn. Your place is with me. It doesn’t matter where I am, where I go, or what I’m doing.”

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