Page 58 of Jericho

"We're wasting time," I continue. "And we've already wasted enough time with your lie about Virginia."

She doesn't seem very shocked that we managed to figure out Damien wasn't talking about the house we questioned her about. At first, we did think that's what he was referencing, but further research revealed that the house was sold for the land and torn down four years ago.

"We need to know where he's holding Eli, and you're wasting fucking time just standing there."

I know I shouldn't use her against herself, but Eli is my number one priority. I can handle her being mad at me, even hating me for the rest of her life, but she'll do it with Eli by her side. I have no other fucking recourse. This can't go any otherway. I won't let that happen, and neither will the two teams of men at my back.

She makes sure not to touch me as she treks across the snow and ice toward the SUV. As much as I want to comfort her and make every promise that comes to mind, we just don't have the time. We were gearing up to leave when I checked and found her gone. This has set us back at least an hour, and every minute counts.

The drive back to the house is spent in silence, but I can tell both Aspen and Hemlock have a lot to say, they're just not willing to say it in front of each other.

Aspen is quick to climb out of the SUV and go right back into the house, and I'm right on her heels all the way up the stairs.

"We're gone in fifteen," Hemlock yells up at me just as I crest the top of the stairs.

I wave down at him, letting him know I heard him, but I follow Aspen into the room.

I grab a go-bag out of the closet and drop it near the bedroom door, ready to tell her to stay put and I'll let her know when we know something but looking back at her changes everything.

She was upset earlier. She had a damn panic attack for fuck's sake, but right now, she looks completely lost and broken.

She shakes her head when I inch toward her. I know it's a warning not to touch her because whatever thread she has managed to hold together this far will break.

But I can'tnotwrap her in my arms.

"This is all my fault," she sobs into my chest. "I should've done everything differently."

"Damien made it impossible to do anything other than the way he wanted things done, Peach. There's nothing you could've changed."

If anything, this is my fault for grabbing her out of that alleyway. At the time, I thought it was a good idea, but I should've spent more time thinking of all the scenarios instead of acting so rashly.

"You can't leave me here to just wonder about what's going on," she whispers. "I'll lose my mind."

I pull back, holding her at arm's length, and spend the next few breaths staring her in the eyes. She won't stay here, and it's not that she wants to defy me. She can't not do something that she thinks might help Eli. She doesn't have it in her, and I don't know that many mothers exist who could.

"You need to change. Wet clothes aren't good," I say and drop my hands from her shoulders.

She doesn't hesitate to start stripping right there in front of me. She isn't concerned about modesty or privacy. I gather another set of clothes that Zara sent up and pass them to her once she's mostly naked.

I don't miss how supple her breasts are or how soft I know her skin to be, and my cock, the one-track-minded bastard, doesn't hesitate to swell in my jeans. But now isn't the time for any of that shit, and I shut the idea of it down almost as quickly as it rises.

Once she's dressed again, we head out, and I hate that her clothes are pieced together and her footwear isn't exactly appropriate, but she doesn't seem to mind.

Hemlock doesn't say a word when I open the back door of the SUV and wait for her to climb inside before getting into the passenger seat.

"We need to talk about the summer house, Mrs. Gaines," Hemlock says as he begins to drive away from the cabin.

"Please call me Aspen," she instructs. "The summer house is in Connecticut, near Bridgeport."

Chapter 30

Aspen

It has been an insane six hours since we left the cabin in Gatlinburg.

I've been introduced to more men than I could ever hope to keep straight, all of them with names like Jersey, Hound, Tug, and I think one's name was Snatch, which made me blush like a damned schoolgirl. Him, I can't forget. The man is covered in tattoos including his neck and some on his face. He seemed very nice, but not someone I'd like to meet on a dark street alone, not that he gave me any sort of creepy vibe. The snap judgment makes me realize either I have some bias with the way certain people look or I'm just afraid of every damn thing. Either way, it's not the best position to be in when facing life in general.

I wouldn't call them letting me be here as active participation but it's more than I could've asked for. I've watched several dozen men gear up with tactical clothing and weapons in preparation but watching them while wearing sweats and a sweater makes me feel helpless.

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