Burn Like An Angel (Harrowdean Manor #2)

29. Ripley

CHAPTER 29

RIPLEY

VIOLET HILL – COLDPLAY

An obnoxiously large bunch of sunflowers clasped in my hands, I follow the signs to the male ward. I left Lennox and Raine in Xander’s room while his discharge papers are signed and went on a hunt for flowers.

I know I’m in the right place when I spot two familiar figures outside a hospital room, both with crossed arms and hard scowls. Neither look like they’ve slept in days.

Ethan sees me first, arms dropping so he can wave. “Ripley?”

I adjust the flowers in my arms. “Hi.”

At the sound of my name, Enzo straightens. I expected the rest of the Anaconda team to be here, but from what I understand, the whole of Sabre Security is facing months of evidence collection and investigating. They must be overwhelmed.

“Hey, guys.”

“What are you doing here?” Enzo looks over me.

“Here to see the patient.”

“It’s good to see you in one piece.” He smiles reassuringly. “Been discharged?”

“Not with a clean bill of health, but yes. I’m free to leave.”

“You need a ride somewhere?” Ethan offers.

“Are you still our protection detail?”

“For the time being. While the investigation is ongoing, you’ll have security.”

Unease filters into my bloodstream. “Are we still in danger?”

“The main threats have been eliminated. We believe you’re safe.”

“Consider it a precaution,” Enzo adds with a wink. “We’re already working with the authorities to round up suspects based on your evidence.”

“I’m not taking any more risks after what happened.” I glance between them, offering a genuine smile. “So thank you.”

“You gave us a scare,” Ethan admits. “The car wreck was a complete disaster. And finding you passed out on that damn jet shaved ten years off my life.”

“Sorry?” I pose it as a question.

“It’s us who should be apologising. I’m sorry it took us so long to get to you.”

“Apparently, I have the guys to thank for my rescue.” Cool metal slides along my arm, reminding me of the bracelet I’m still wearing. “But thanks for coming to get me.”

“Sure thing.”

“Is Warner awake? Lennox told me he’s here. I want to see him before we leave.”

Enzo rolls his shoulders, working out the tension. “He’s pretty heavily drugged right now. His surgery is scheduled for the morning.”

“Surgery?” Anxiety explodes inside me.

Looking down at his feet, Ethan flinches. “His leg was crushed in the wreck. It cut off the blood circulation. The doctors have tried all they can to save it, but…”

“No,” I whisper, horrified.

“It’ll have to be amputated,” Enzo finishes. “There’s nothing else they can do.”

“Shit. I’m so?—”

“Don’t apologise.” Ethan cuts me off. “This isn’t your fault. We understand the risks in this business, Ripley.”

“Still, his leg?”

“He’ll recover and live. Nothing else matters now. In time, he can return to work if he wishes.”

Throat thick, I can’t find anything else to say. I hitch the flowers higher in my arms and give them both nods. Ethan holds the door open for me to step inside the room filled with ticking machines.

Warner rests in a bed on the far side of the room, surrounded by countless machines. He’s hooked up to several monitors with bags of sedatives and pain relief suspended from a hook above him.

I quietly pad closer, placing the sunflowers on the folding table pushed away from his bed. Above the crisp, white sheets, his injured leg is secured in a brace, holding the doomed limb prone.

It’s hard to see through the stitched cuts and grazes that cover his face. I didn’t recognise myself when I stumbled to the bathroom to shower, but Warner looks even worse. He took the brunt of the hit.

“Hey.” I lightly touch his arm, scared to hurt him. “It’s Ripley.”

His eyes don’t open.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Guilt strangles my lungs. “All you wanted to do was help us. If you hadn’t come to the apartment… I don’t know if we’d still be alive. And look what thanks you get.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“I heard about the surgery. We’re all going to be here when you wake up, okay? I promise we’ll help you through this. Just like you helped us.”

Adjusting the covers, I smooth the wrinkles out, making sure he’s securely tucked in. There’s a stray lock of hair hanging in his closed eye, the dark-brown hue stark against his sickly pallor.

I swipe the hair away, pushing it back from his face. “Thank you for being my friend. Even when I was hurtful to you and determined to make it on my own. You didn’t have to care about me.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“I have the chance for a life now. I’m hoping you’ll be a part of it. I could use a friend.”

Determined not to start crying again, I take one last look at his face. For a whole year in Harrowdean, I took Warner for granted. Even when he did his best to provide the help I desperately needed.

I’ll never do that again.

I’m not afraid to care now.

Connections are what make us strong, and if he wants a friend, I’ll spend forever repaying him for doing his best to help. That’s the kind of person I want to be. Not someone who hurts others for selfish means.

Someone who helps.

The kind of person my parents would be proud of.

“Stop here.”

Pressing the brakes, Ethan pulls up at the curb. Aside from taking a phone call from his long-distance boyfriend in some faraway town, he’s been silent the entire ride into Hackney.

I look over my shoulder. “You guys okay?”

Xander, Lennox and Raine are all seated in the back of Ethan’s car. We’re all a sorry sight, wearing donated clothes from the hospital, our bodies bearing the marks of all we’ve endured.

“Tired.” Raine smiles sleepily.

“Cramped,” Xander grouses.

Lennox elbows him. “Stop moaning.”

“Ow. I’m injured.”

“I’ll give you a fucking injury if you complain one more time.”

“Get him, Nox.” Raine yawns.

Convincing them to get back in an SUV took some pleading on Ethan’s part. I was busy fighting my own internal battle after making the decision that we would return to my home for now.

None of us have another place to go. It was this or a hotel. I have money tied up in various accounts, but Uncle Jonathan took charge of my affairs when I was shipped off to Priory Lane. I don’t even know where my purse is.

“I called Theo,” Ethan informs me. “He sent a team in to fit new locks and check the place for anything Jonathan may have installed. It’s clear. You should be able to get in.”

“Thank you.”

“Pretty sure he also installed a security system with CCTV cameras.” He casts me an unrepentant grin. “Sorry.”

“Am I going to have secret agents turning up at my door every time someone dodgy walks past?”

“I’ll keep them in check. Don’t worry.”

Placing my hand over his, I squeeze tight. “Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow to take you all into HQ to be debriefed.”

“Got it.”

Ethan nods. “Theo told me he had the team leave a couple phones inside from the company stash. My number is programmed in if you need anything.”

“Is this dude giving Ripley his number?” Lennox murmurs.

Raine huffs. “Did you miss him flirting with a guy on the phone?”

“Irrelevant,” Xander quips. “Can I rip his spine out of his throat?”

I turn around in my seat to scowl at him. “Xander! Jesus!”

He tilts his head, deadly serious. “Is that a yes?”

“No!”

“Too bad.” Shrugging, he glares at Ethan. “Well, the offer stands.”

“Ripping out people’s spines is not a proportionate response in any circumstance, and most certainly not when Ethan is trying to help us.”

“See that’s where we disagree,” he deadpans.

Popping the door open, I clamber out before he can threaten to kill anyone else. The guys all follow with Lennox helping Xander to straighten. Ethan offers us a wave then pulls away from the curb.

With a calming breath in, I turn to face my building. It’s an old, converted warehouse, swept up in London’s gentrification. I bought it when I moved out, so I’ve owned the loft apartment for several years now.

“Home.” I wave awkwardly. “Top floor.”

“This is your flat?” Lennox asks, surprised.

“Yeah, there’s an art studio combined with the living space. And I have a spare bedroom. Should be enough space for us all.”

Leading the way up the slick stone path, the entry door swings open after I tap in the security code. Thankfully, it hasn’t changed. Climbing the concrete stairwell proves to be a challenge for all of us.

As promised, my front door is unlocked, fitted with shiny new locks and a blinking camera strategically placed outside. I hesitate before pushing it open, feeling a sense of trepidation.

“What is it?” Xander drops a hand on my shoulder.

“I just… I’m not the person I was when I lived here. I don’t know who I’m coming back as now.”

“You’re still you, little toy.”

“Am I?”

His nimble fingers sink into me, providing a reassuring pressure. “Sure. Perhaps just a little rougher around the edges. A bit more scarred. But also a hell of a lot stronger.”

Twisting my head, I look up at him. “I lived here alone for a long time. I’m coming back with something else too. Three something elses.”

“That a problem?” His mouth hooks up.

“No.” My hand moves to rest on top of his. “I love you, Xander. I want you to know that even if you can’t say it back.”

His star-speckled, navy eyes flick over mine. Considering. Processing. We’ve come a long way, but I know he’s still learning to let people in. I don’t expect him to return the sentiment.

“My chest feels strange when I’m with you,” he rumbles. “It has for a while. Is that what this feeling is, Rip? Love?”

“Is that what you think it is?”

Xander peers away, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. “I’m not sure. I haven’t felt it before.”

I look briefly at the other two. “Does your chest feel like that when you think about Lennox or Raine?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “But in a different way. They’re my brothers.”

“Because you care about them.”

“Yes.”

As much as I want to drag the words out of him, I leave Xander with that realisation. His mind takes time to pick the world apart and translate it into terms he can understand. I trust that he’ll get there.

Pushing open the apartment door, my nose wrinkles at the stench of thick dust and disuse. A massive pile of unanswered mail has been neatly stacked on the console next to the front door by whoever checked the place over.

The guys tentatively follow me into the vast, open plan space. Vaulted ceilings stretch all the way to the rafters, lined with huge steel beams. Light spills in through floor-length windows built into the brick.

I divided the space into two—living on the right side with the two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, glistening steel kitchen and restored, antique dining table. It’s all still the same beneath inches of dust.

On the left, my studio space is separated by rows of drying racks and a bookshelf full of art books. Years worth of old canvases are stacked in piles, exactly how I left them.

“Bedrooms are over there.” I gesture to the right. “I’ve no idea how clean any of the linens or towels will be.”

“How did you pay the bills?” Lennox queries.

“I’d accumulated enough from selling art over the years.” Dust particles tickle my nostrils. “Everything gets paid automatically each month so I knew the place would be okay while I was gone.”

Leaving them to explore, I walk into the living area. Behind the table, I have a smattering of different coloured armchairs, all thrifted from my local antique dealer. I’ve always loved objects with history.

At the console table next to one of the windows, I flick on the Tiffany lamp, illuminating a collection of framed photographs I kept on display. My parents’ wedding photo. A shot of me, all red and scrunched up, swaddled in my dad’s arms.

The final frame holds one of me and Uncle Jonathan—my graduation from art school. I wore my robe with my hard-earned diploma clasped in my hands. But I can see the strain behind my practised smile.

It fucking hurts to look at him now. Younger but still immaculate in his charcoal suit and blue tie. Those same clear eyes, filled with schemes and secrets. I was still trying to please him back then.

Lifting the frame, I throw it at the brick wall and watch in satisfaction as it shatters. The smashed glass hits the floor, shredding the photo imprisoned inside.

“Ripley?”

“I’m fine!” I call back.

Someone stops behind me, breathing hard. I feel arms wrap around me, a firm chest pressing into my back. Spearmint washes over me, a refreshing comfort in all the stale air.

“Didn’t like that one?” Xander whispers.

“No. Not anymore.”

His lips press into the side of my head, cool and dry. Every clenched muscle relaxes at the feel of Xander holding me. Pulling me back to the present, where that man can no longer dictate my life.

“My chest hurts again,” he murmurs. “I think I love you.”

Laughter spills out of me.

“Fuck. Hell of a way to declare it, Xan.”

“Want me to take it back?”

Pulling his wrists, I turn in his arms so I can see him. My swollen eye is still a badly bruised mess, but I don’t need twenty-twenty vision to recognise the jagged angles and alabaster skin I’ve memorised.

“No,” I whisper.

His mouth is drawn to mine, landing softer than I expected. The kiss is everything Xander isn’t. Gentle. Tentative. Exploratory. All the traits I couldn’t possibly ascribe to the man who thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to gift me a tracking device.

I don’t give a fuck, though.

Xander is perfect the way he is.

I’m so wrapped up in his lips, it takes Lennox shouting our names several times for us to separate. There’s an odd ringing emanating throughout the apartment. Taking Xander’s hand, I walk over to the front door.

The security system that Theo had his men install is demanding my attention. Next to the door, a small screen has been installed, offering me a view of the outside pavement and our floor.

“Someone pressed the buzzer.” I study the image. “Do you think it was a mistake?”

Xander leans closer to study the four men standing outside the apartment building, all carrying shopping bags. His finger hovers over one—tall, raven-haired and radiating danger.

“That’s Hudson Knight. He was in HQ when we first went. I saw him in the corridor afterwards.”

“The Blackwood inmate?” Raine asks behind us.

“Wait, I recognise him too.” My attention narrows on the guy wearing a pressed shirt and glasses, his pearly-blonde hair slicked back. “He was on those tapes that got leaked.”

“Kade Knight,” Lennox supplies. “Brothers, I believe.”

“What are they doing here? Who are the other two?”

Jabbing his finger on the intercom, Xander offers a friendly greeting. “This isn’t Blackwood. Fuck off.”

“Smooth,” Raine mutters.

The preppy-looking one, Kade, steps up to answer. “Uh, hello. This is a bit weird, but I kinda swiped this address from Theo’s computer while he was busy.”

My eyebrows feel like they’ve met my damn hairline.

“We just want to chat,” he rushes to add. “Nothing sinister. This is my brother, Hudson, and our friends, Eli and Phoenix. We’re unarmed and come in peace.”

“What the fuck?” Lennox whispers. “Is this a joke?”

“He seems genuine.”

“I don’t trust genuine,” Xander replies, hitting the speak button again. “Why are you here?”

“We have a peace offering.” Kade lifts the white, plastic bag in his hands. “Thai takeout.”

Looking at each other and silently deliberating, we leave them hanging. Hudson seems to say something to his brother, a stormy scowl carving his features as they both turn to face the others. Collectively, the group starts to leave.

I push past Xander to jab the button. “Wait! Come up.”

“Ripley,” Lennox hisses.

Ignoring his protest, I press to give them access to the building.

“Okay, then.” Raine jostles on his feet.

The guys disappear from the camera as they walk inside. Lennox and Xander are both bitching while I wait for them to reappear on the second camera outside. They appear before a knock echoes on the door.

“Ripley,” Xander warns.

Ignoring him, I pull the door open. Two friendly hazel orbs meet mine. Kade can’t be much younger than us, though the dark circles beneath his black-framed glasses seem to age him.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” I reply timidly.

“Kade.” He gives an awkward wave. “From the intercom.”

Xander’s shoulder pushes into mine, forcing his way in front of me. “Can we help you?”

A pierced, black brow cocked, Hudson gestures to the takeout his brother is holding. “We brought dinner.”

“Why?” Lennox barks.

There’s a snort from the blue-haired guy behind them, holding the hand of the fourth member, who avoids looking at us altogether.

“This is going about as well as expected.”

“Phoenix,” Kade scolds before turning his attention back to us. “You don’t know us, but we’ve heard about your stories. You’ve probably heard some of ours. I figured we should all meet.”

Looking between them, I’m filled with confusion. “What about… uh, Brooklyn? Brooklyn West?”

The silent, curly-haired one at the back flinches. That must be Eli. He’s staring down at his shoes, a pair of ancient-looking Chucks, and seems deliberately secluded from the world around him.

When he finally looks up and I get a full view of his startling, rich-green eyes, I know he’s hurting. Whatever they’ve been through to get here, it’s left them battered and scarred. Just like us.

I offer him a tentative smile.

After a beat, Eli smiles back.

Phoenix is holding his hand in a white-knuckled grip. The pair seem glued at the hip. By comparison, Hudson and Kade feel like the team leaders, both standing shoulder-to-shoulder.

“She isn’t with us.” Hudson’s stubbled throat bobs. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Nodding, I hold the door open for them.

“We’ve got nothing but time.”