Looking past the black eyes that seem to drink me in, dark stubble, carved cheekbones and a twisted scar are all obscured. Each identifying feature is covered in brilliant-red splats.
Blood.
He’s covered in blood.
It’severywhere.
“Miss me, sweetheart?” my captor croons. “You didn’t have to pull this dramatic crap just to get my attention.”
The smell of crushed peppercorns and citrus-sharp bergamot offers undeniable proof that I’m awake. From what exactly, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know why I’m sprawled out or how long I’ve been out for.
I’m cradled in a pair of wiry arms while blood-speckled fingertips stroke over my face, easing the ache that emanates from my clenched teeth.
I’m being soothed. Comforted. Protected.
By Blaine motherfucking Madden.
CHAPTER 21
AXEL
LONDON – BADFLOWER
Studyingthe frankly insane scene that’s unfolded on the other side of the two-way mirror, it offers a direct view of our interrogation rooms. Only two are occupied.
In the first cell, Warner sips coffee while engaged in a silent standoff that’s been rumbling on for what feels like hours. No matter what tactic he attempts, his prisoner won’t utter a single damn word.
Opposite him, Blaine Madden lounges in the steel chair he’s handcuffed to by his ankles and wrists. I’m not quite sure how he manages to make being incapacitated look so comfortable.
“Why did you come back to England, Blaine? You were free overseas. Why risk it?”
Still, Madden refuses to open his mouth. He simply stares. Smiles. Silently waits. For what, I’m not quite sure. Warner has no intention of letting the criminal bastard see the light of day ever again.
“Did you come back for Ember?” Warner directly asks.
Nothing. Not a fucking peep.
“Why did you help her last night? Why not let her be taken again?”
Still dressed in dark clothing saturated with blood, Madden looks every inch the unhinged powerhouse that his reputation suggests. His face, hair and body are all crusted with dark-red splotches.
“You’ve been meeting with Gael’s associates. Why is that?”
With a quiet chuff, Madden flicks his gaze over to the mirror. I know he can’t see me, but it feels like he’s challenging me with his stare regardless. I want to go in there and rip his fucking face off.
It doesn’t matter that he saved Ember. Sure, without him there, she’d be lost all over again. Perhaps even dead. None of us care, though. We’d rather understand why he was there in the first place.
Looking away from the tight-lipped crime lord, I peer into the second room. Hyland should be interrogating this sick fuck, but he’s with Ember in the hospital right now.
With a half-smoked cigarette clasped between his fingers, legs outstretched and feet propped up on the table, Hudson Knight stares down a beaten Miguel. The lucky bastard survived his run-in with Ember.
“It won’t be a challenge to tie you to decades worth of international crimes, Miguel. The Mexican authorities are in full cooperation with us. We will bury you.”
Hudson’s terrifying voice is enough to put me on edge, let alone anyone who doesn’t know the heavily-inked brute. To everyone but those he cares about, he’s a stone-cold, merciless bastard. I love the guy.
Taking another drag from his cigarette, Hudson eyes Miguel without a single care in the world. He’s completely calm.
“How much did Gael offer for Ember’s safe capture?”
