Page 135 of Burning Ivy (The KORT)

Four hours later, I’m striding into the jeweler’s while the guys wait impatiently in the car Axel sent for us. Ryker arranged a private after-hours meeting for me since the jewelry store closes at seven.

No one else has shown up for the ruby necklace yet. Not surprising since they were only provided three hours today. We expect tomorrow to begin drawing out the dogs. I hate this plan, the danger it imposes. While Ryker was correct that Ivy is brilliant for choreographing this scheme, the marionette masters in this game aren’t the ones who will be showing their faces. And unfortunately, there are always endless strings of puppets. It’s possible we’ll detain someone who squeals something more, but with Ivy out there alone, the chance of it going sideways is far more likely.

The jeweler studies me against a picture, finally handing me the ruby necklace and an envelope. Inside is a note in my Little Storm’s handwriting.

“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” —George Moore

A single quote, but it encompasses the journey we’ve traveled already to find her and evokes a potent recollection.

She’s curled up in my arms after our picnic by the pond. We’ve been so normal today, a morning of fervent orgasms, followed by a bath and breakfast and rom-coms. I know things will shift once she knows the truth tomorrow, but I needed today—the feel of her petite frame folded into mine, the sound of her melodic rasp as she shares her hopes, the symphony of her giggles. In a life brimming with surreal pressures and pleasures, these moments with her are still the hardest to capture.

Fuck, I’m so in love with this woman. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She’s … everything. All that matters.

“Tell me, Little Storm, all the places you want to go and explore. We’ll make a list and check them off one by one.”

“There are so many countries and cities and wonders I’d like to see. Anywhere with you would be special, but there’s one place I want to go more than anywhere else.”

I plant a kiss in her hair, my lips moving against the silky strands. “Name it. We’ll make it happen.”

“I want to see the town you grew up in,” she says.

My laughter filters into the air, skirting the glassy surface of the pond and floating up into the clouds. “Ives, no one wants to go to that Podunk town.”

“I do,” she insists, her eyes latching on to mine beneath the fringe of her dark lashes. “I know it’s where you lost everything. I’m sure it wouldn’t be easy to return to the birthplace of such trauma and devastation, but it was also the place you learned to ride a bike. Where you skinned your knee, and your mom swept your hair off your forehead and assured you it would heal. It’s where you played catch with your dad and teased your little brother. There’s a piece of you there, Wells—a piece that tornado didn’t steal. You always tell me how selfish you are for my moments. I’m selfish for you too. I want those forgotten slivers you’ve tucked away—the ones no one else sees. The beautiful and the broken.”

Not all of my childhood was spent in the same town, but the picture she paints isn’t far off. Aside from the multiple moves before anchoring in Oklahoma when I was twelve, my childhood was as quaint as a Norman Rockwell masterpiece. But returning to Brass City, where my parents and brother perished, isn’t an option for me—that town thinks I’m dead—but I don’t tell her that the one place she’s requested is the only destination too dangerous for me to take her.

I slide her up onto my lap, nestle her against the warmth of my chest, bury another kiss in her raspberry-vanilla hair, and whisper, “You have more of me than anyone ever has. Every sliver is yours.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, rousing from the nostalgic glow. “I know where she is.” I rush out of the jeweler, turning back to Ryker. “You’ll contact me if she—”

“Of course. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

Once I’m back in the car, Axel’s driver hustles us to the private airport, but it isn’t until we’re loaded on the plane that I inform the guys where we’re headed. “Brass City, Oklahoma.”

“Fucking hell,” Gage hisses while Ty and Liam sputter with him.

“Jesus, Chief.” Liam snickers, although it’s dripping with more astonishment than humor. “After this, you’ll think twice about pissing off High Society. Brutal.”

“We’ll go. You can’t—”

I cut off Ty’s objection before it starts. “I’m going to get my wife even if I have to rise from the dead or meet my maker to do it.”

Returning to the towns we’ve been erased from isn’t only dangerous; it’s an act of treason against the government, punishable by death, per the agreement we signed with the CIA. It was the primary stipulation required of us, which we were told was generous, as if killing us off after we clawed our way out of an enemy camp, where we had been tortured and starved for weeks, was a gift. I’ve never nursed the resentment over it that Gage harbors, but as we take flight for my hometown, it courses through my veins.

“What’s her angle?” Liam asks. “She already spilled that she knows who we are.”

My hand brushes over the unkempt scruff growing wildly on my chin and jaw. “She wants to know I’d walk through fire to reach her, even ones she sets. So, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Burn for her,” Gage mutters, half to himself, and I know there’s a deeper meaning looming inside his statement.

“Exactly.”

IVY

I’m hunkered down in a small-town inn—Hallmark inspired, no doubt—about a mile from where Wells grew up. I didn’t give him any specifics about where I’d be staying, assuming his keen skills and ability to sense me would guide him here. I’m aware that Brass City is not the easiest place for him to venture into since this town believes he’s dead, but I needed to see what lengths he’d go to. This is the only destination that poses a threat to the man who has the world in his pocket.

After ten hours of driving, trading in my car, and hacking into the surveillance of the jeweler and surrounding traffic cameras, I’m exhausted and lonely. Missing Wells has manifested into a physical torment. Seeing his face on the security footage earlier, knowing he’s coming for me, has sucked the marrow out of my bones and replaced it with a distressing ache.

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