Page 116 of Cruel Hearts

All the men, women, and children who have perished at the hands of terrorists armed by Clayton Black.

The choice is clear, but not simple.

As I shake Ash’s hand and he wishes me a goodnight, I wonder what else the Blacks have done, or are doing, because while what I’ve discovered is definitely enough, I don’t think it’s the end.

Nathalie sits next to me in the limo, but she doesn’t make any advances. Maybe she realized things will be easier going forward if she does what I say. Or maybe our dinner with Ash has reminded her just how vicious he can be. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful. I’m not in the mood to fight her off.

Douglas is off shift, and the driver I use in his absence cuts smoothly through the traffic. I instruct him to go to the Crowne, but I check my phone and Mel sent a text cautioning me about going there. Sighing, I ask him to drive us to the penthouse instead. I want to see Stella, but she’d be too angry to talk to me anyway.

I lean against the seat and watch the lights blink out my window. A small ball of stress eases in my gut. Ash believes that I believe he wasn’t the one trying to kill Stella when she came back to the city. He believes she’s dead and that I’m not sorry about it. He believes what Nat and I have is real.

Dinner went as well as I wanted it to go, and I’ll lay even more groundwork at the engagement party.

I squeeze Nathalie’s hand.

A smile trembles on her mouth. She hates helping me, and as she, Stella, and Quinn know, it will be dangerous.

We have a lot to lose.

What we have to gain is even greater.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Stella

My body aches like hell. I don’t whine because Quinn would tell me to shut the fuck up. A bullet actually went through her, but she acts like she feels a lot better than I do. Maybe she’s taking her pain meds. I don’t like the woozy feeling the pills the junkie nurse gave me. I’d rather be in pain than feel like Alice in Wonderland and make do with plain ibuprofen which is never enough, but I need the control.

I’m grateful Quinn’s doing well. I still feel guiltier than hell she was shot in the first place.

As usual, we’re sitting in Max’s room. We feel safer together, protected by our numbers. It’s only Nathalie who goes off on her own, but she hasn’t given me a reason not to trust her and she has no reason not to help us. Zane’s saving her from a life of prostitution and abuse, and God only knows what happens to the women Ash sells after the men who use them don’t want them anymore. He’s always recruiting new girls, each one younger and prettier than the last. The women who can’t earn their keep disappear, and through all my years of working atBlack Enterprises, I never could find what Ash does to them. I look forward to knowing...and stopping it.

Mel knew I was upset Zane and Nathalie had to meet Ash, and at one of the fanciest, most romantic restaurants in King’s Crossing, no less. In an attempt to make me feel better, she ordered steak and twice baked potatoes for dinner and seven-layer chocolate cake for dessert. Zane’s credit card is getting quite the workout, but the food is divine so I’m not going to complain.

Someone knocks on the suite’s main door interrupting the subdued quiet, and everyone tenses. Zane didn’t text Mel or call ahead warning us of a surprise visitor, but unless he went to the men’s room, there would have been no way he could do that without causing suspicion. Even though I’m upset, I know how important their dinner is, and I wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize what Zane needs to do.

Max shifts closer to Zarah on the loveseat, and Paulo and Denton hover near the door. Quinn links our fingers, and Mel closes her laptop and cautiously calls out, “Come in.”

The hotel’s manager tentatively pushes the door open and Zane’s driver, Douglas, steps into the room, ashen, holding his hat in his hands.

Immediately, I think something terrible happened to Zane, that he’s dead or in the hospital. Pushing back an alarmed sob, I lurch out of my chair at the conference table, and on shaking legs, meet Douglas in the middle of the room. “What is it? It Zane okay?”

His gaze flies to mine and he crushes me against his chest. He hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe. During the brief time Zane and I dated, I didn’t get to know his and Zarah’s driver. Either we would ride public transportation as it seemed to entertain Zane, or he’d drive us where we wanted to go, which he also seemed to enjoy.

“It’s true,” he says, pushing me to arms’ length and studying my face. “You’re alive.”

The plan had always been for Douglas to drive us to the hospital the night of the mugging, and I thought nothing of it.

No one knew how real my death would become.

“Zane didn’t tell you?” I ask.

Douglas shakes his head. “No. I said a few choice things to him tonight about Miss Barton. He had no right to be seeing her when a proper gentleman would be in mourning. I told him he was dishonoring your name and that I was disappointed in him.”

“I am so sorry. What a stupid—” I stop and sigh. “God. I’m sorry you thought that. It’s part of the plan.”

He drops his hands, releasing me. “Zane didn’t tell me what’s happening. How can I be of assistance?”

“We’re going to—”

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