Page 39 of Dusty
“We don’t have time for official channels,” Dusty cut in. “By the time we navigate the red tape, Madison could have her halfway to some offshore location where we’ll never find her. Plus, Sharon said a good chunk of the Chicago PD is on Madison’s payroll. He’d know we were coming within minutes of you contacting them.”
Antonio studied him for a long moment. “You really love her, don’t you?”
The question caught Dusty off guard. He hadn’t said the words aloud to anyone, hadn’t even had the chance to say themto Sharon. But now, with her life hanging in the balance, there was no point denying it.
“Yes,” he admitted, the single word carrying the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “And I’m not letting Madison take her from me.”
Rafe exchanged glances with the others before sighing heavily. “We’ve all been there, bro. Having the women we love in danger. Alright. But we do this smart, not just charging in blind. You’re no good to Sharon dead.”
“I’ll make some calls,” Dean said, standing in the doorway of the cockpit. “See if Carpenter Security can get eyes inside the estate before we land.”
For the next hour, they refined their plan, accounting for every contingency they could think of. Dusty forced himself to focus on the details, to channel his fear and anger into something productive. But in the quiet moments, when the others were distracted with their own preparations, he found himself staring out the window at the darkness below, sending silent promises into the night.
Hold on, Sharon. I’m coming for you. No matter what it takes.
The plane began its descent into Chicago, and Dusty checked his weapon one final time. He’d never considered himself a violent man, but for Sharon, he was prepared to cross lines he’d once thought immovable. Madison had taken enough from her already. He wouldn’t let him take her life too.
As the lights of the city came into view, Dusty made one last silent vow. When this was over—when Sharon was safe—he wouldn’t waste another moment keeping his feelings hidden. Life was too fragile, too unpredictable. And some truths needed to be spoken before it was too late.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sharon kept hersmile firmly in place as Cooper motioned for her wine glass to be refilled. The expensive Cabernet glinted blood-red in the candlelight of his private dining room, each sip bitter on her tongue despite its supposed quality. Though she rarely drank, right now she wasn’t above a little liquid courage. The few drinks she’d taken were a façade, simply to make Cooper think she was cooperating, none of it actually passing her lips. She needed to keep her wits about her, but refusing the wine would only raise his suspicions. She’d already aroused enough of those when Troy had dragged her back to Chicago.
“You know,” Cooper said, leaning back in his chair with practiced ease, “I’ve missed our little dinners, Sharon. Before all this…unpleasantness.”
Sharon took a small sip of wine, controlling her trembling hand. “Have you really, Cooper? Because the last time I checked, you were busy framing me for murder.”
Cooper laughed, the sound hollow and cold despite his charming smile. “So dramatic. That’s what I like about you.” His blue eyes hardened. “But also what makes you dangerous.”
“No, Vincent Frame was dangerous, I was simply the pawn who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You needed something to hold over my head, to make me kowtow to you, to give you the evidence I—”
“Stole. The word you’re looking for is stole.” He finished the wine in his glass, and it was refilled almost instantly. Nobody could say he didn’t have attentive and observant staff. “None ofthis would have been necessary if you’d simply minded your own business. But your curiosity got the best of you, didn’t it, my darling?”
The room felt like it was shrinking with each passing minute. Sharon glanced at the ornate gold and glass clock on the wall. She needed more time. Dusty would be coming. He had promised he’d find her no matter what, and she believed him. The thought of him lying in the dirt, blood on his face, sent an ache through her chest so powerful it was almost physical. Was he already on his way? Had he been badly hurt by Troy’s attack in the barn?
“I was never a threat to you, Cooper,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even. “Not until you made me one.”
“And yet here we are.” Cooper cut into his steak, the knife slicing through the meat with disturbing precision. “With you in possession of something that belongs to me.”
Sharon speared a roasted potato with her fork, appetite long gone but keeping up appearances. “I don’t have it anymore. I…burned it.”
“Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by fabricating lies.” Cooper’s smile remained, but his eyes had gone cold. “Files copied from my laptop. Highly sensitive files that I’m sure you’ve already realized could be…problematic for me if they fell into the wrong hands.” He shook his head and took a sip of his wine. “I have the original files back. It cost me dearly, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to provide compensation for my troubles. Fortunately, my contact at the FBI was more than happy to return my files.”
Sharon’s heart hammered against her ribs. She lifted her wine, using the glass to hide her expression for a moment. Stalling. Always stalling.
Dusty would come. He had to. Had he gotten the files to Antonio and the FBI?
“If these files are so damaging,” she said, setting her glass down carefully, “maybe you shouldn’t have left your laptop unlocked.” She allowed herself a small smirk, a calculated risk to keep him engaged.
Cooper’s jaw tightened, but he chuckled. “Always the provocateur. That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”
“It already has,” she countered, thinking of the night before she’d gone on the run, when she’d discovered what kind of man Cooper really was.
The memory of finding those files—detailed accounts of money laundering for the mob, extortion, blackmail, embezzlement from Kerrigan, and the calculated murders of three people who had threatened to expose him—still made her stomach turn. Including poor Vincent Frame, whose murder Cooper had so efficiently pinned on her.
“You know,” Cooper said, pushing his plate away, “I thought we could handle this like civilized people. I truly did.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “But I’m starting to think you need more persuasion than dinner and conversation.”
Icy dread crept down her spine. She leaned forward, letting the low-cut V in her dress fall open just enough to distract him. “Cooper,” she said, her voice deliberately husky, “you don’t have to threaten me. We were good together once, weren’t we?”
