“Okay.” She’d sleep in her car if it meant she could get out of this fucking house. “My car’s out front.”
“I’ll drive you.”
She could feel the tight hold she had on her control slipping. Too tired to argue, she nodded and climbed gingerly into the front seat of his Range Rover. They drove through familiar streets, past homes and shops she recognized. Somehow everything managed to look exactly the same and completely different at the same time.
He pulled into an underground parking garage, punching in a security code and waiting for the gate to roll up. After parking in a reserved spot, they followed the signs to the penthouse elevator. Declan swiped a card on a black pad, and the elevator doors opened with a ding.
He held his hand against the door when she stepped inside. “It’ll open right into the apartment. Use whatever you need.”
When he stepped back, the doors slid closed, and the elevator rose without a sound. She stepped off onto polished black marble that gleamed in the city lights. The kitchen sat to her right, and she could see the living room beyond, so she followed the hall to her left past an office and a room with a pool table until finally finding one with a bed.
This was his room. It had to be, with its king-sized bed and dark mahogany furniture. It smelled like him. She crossed to the bathroom in the dark and turned on the lights. Avoiding the mirror, she turned on the water as hot as it would go, stripping out of her dress and dropping it into the trash can before stepping under the spray.
She stood under the punishingly hot water, frantically scrubbing her skin until the water ran clear. Satisfied that she’d gotten all her mother’s blood off her body, she sank down to the cool tile floor and wept.
ChapterFive
It was early when Declan let himself into the apartment the following morning. Setting the coffee and food he’d picked up on his way over on the counter, he listened for movement. Hearing nothing, he headed for his bedroom. The door was closed but not locked, so he eased it open.
She was sprawled out in the center of the bed on her stomach. Her mass of chestnut curls spilled down her back and over the pillows. He’d had her in his bed before, albeit under vastly different circumstances, and damn it all if he didn’t like the look of her there now.
Shaking that thought from his head, he stalked back to the kitchen, slamming cabinet doors and drawers as he pulled plates and utensils out for breakfast. When he turned, she was framed in the archway to the kitchen, hair still tousled from sleep.
She wore only one of his button-downs, sleeves unbuttoned and pushed up to her elbows. It skimmed the tops of her thighs, fluttering around her when she crossed her arms over her chest. Even after all these years, she could still send lust coursing through him with a look.
“I brought breakfast,” he said, gruffer than he meant to be.
He set the plates on the island and pulled containers out of the paper bag. “Coffee,” he added, sliding one of the to-go cups toward her when she crossed to the counter.
He watched her take a sip before sliding onto one of the high-backed chairs. She looked steadier this morning. Her hazel eyes were clear of the haze of shock he’d seen in them last night, and she wasn’t as shaky as she’d been. Bringing his own coffee to his lips, he sat, leaving some distance between them. She flipped the lid on the box he handed her, and her head jerked up, eyes meeting his.
“You don’t like french toast anymore?”
“I do.” Her eyes flicked to the logo on the bag. “This is french toast from Nicky’s. Extra crispy with lots of raspberries and chocolate chips. My favorite,” she added, studying him with an expression he couldn’t read.
He shrugged. “It was on the way.” It wasn’t, not since Nicky had moved to a bigger location five years ago, but her groan of pleasure at the first bite made the extra twenty minutes worth it.
“Tell me what happened last night.”
She paused with the fork halfway to her mouth, her expression sobering. “The house was dark when I pulled up. I didn’t have a key, so I broke the front window.” Her fingertips brushed at shallow scratches that dotted her left arm. “The house was freezing. The AC was on and set really low. I turned it off.”
She took another bite, chewing slowly. “I called out for Mom, but nothing. It was quiet. Really quiet,” she whispered, swallowing. “I saw her on the floor. I thought heart attack at first, but then I noticed the blood when I felt for a pulse.”
“And your father?”
She looked up at him, eyes shimmering with tears that tore at his heart. Even after all this time, he wanted to protect her.
“That’s about when I noticed him. I didn’t touch him. I knew he was already dead.” Shoving her food away, she sat back. “You showed up a few minutes later, and you know the rest.”
“What are you doing in Philadelphia?”
Her spine straightened, chin ticking up, and his lips twitched in amusement. So her fire still sparked under that rigid control.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
He quirked a brow, leaning forward. “One of my best men is dead and his wife on top of that. Then I find my ex-fiancé, who I haven’t seen in ten years after she practically left me at the altar, covered in their blood. I’d say everything’s relevant. So?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.
“I got a text message from my mother.”
