A Matter Of Justice (Grey Justice #4)(37)

Grey wouldn’t be here. It was the middle of the day. He would be at his offices, either negotiating billion-dollar deals or fighting for justice for an unknown victim. She would have time to clean herself up, maybe grab a nap. When he arrived home, she would be composed and back to her old self. She strived at all times to be the strong, competent, independent Irelyn Raine.

Yes, she would shower and change into one of her favorite dresses. Would have to be a long one, since she had more than a few bruises to hide. He wouldn’t have given her clothes away, would he? The last time she’d been here, she hadn’t thought to check. What about her porcelain clown collection? Would they still be here, or had he donated them to someone who wouldn’t appreciate their beauty or understand the subtle meaning?

She drew away from the door and shook her head. Her thoughts were becoming chaotic, scattered. If she didn’t get up to the penthouse soon, she would collapse on the shiny granite floor. Grey would be called, and he would discover just how weak she really was.

Ignoring the way her hand shook, she entered the five numbers and waited for the door to slide open. Nothing happened. She cleared the keypad and pressed the code again. Nothing. Bewildered, she stared at the damn thing, willing it to open the door. Why wouldn’t the code work? She knew she had entered the correct numbers. Why did—

Realization hit, breath caught in her throat. The pain from her injuries was nothing compared to the searing ache in her heart. Grey had changed the code. She had told him they were over, and this time, he had taken her seriously. This time, he had set her free for good.

She needed to leave. Where would she go? She had money. She would find a hotel and…what? She needed time to think. She had come here for a reason. That reason still existed. What was it? Her thoughts blurred into myriad images and sounds. She told her legs to move, but for some reason, they weren’t obeying. Her heart raced, and a staccato of harsh breaths left her lungs. In a distant part of her mind, she recognized an oncoming panic attack, but she was way past being able to talk herself out of it.

A ding sounded. The elevator door slid open. Grey stood before her. She told herself it was her imagination playing tricks on her. It wasn’t really him. However, just in case, she put on her best fake smile and opened her mouth to say something witty and charming. She didn’t get a sound out before black emptiness filled her mind, and she fell forward into nothingness.



Grey caught her as she fell. Holding her close in his arms, he stepped back into the elevator. As it rose, he tried to assess her injuries. He had never seen her so pale. Had she been shot or stabbed? He couldn’t see any blood, but until he could get her inside the apartment, he would rule nothing out.

The elevator opened. Grey strode through the apartment to Irelyn’s bedroom. He pushed the door open with his foot and placed her gently on the bed. When he heard her groan, he began to breathe again. He’d honestly thought she might die before he could even get her this far. She looked that sick.

Knowing he couldn’t do this on his own, he quickly punched the speed-dial for his on-call doctor and requested immediate help. Assured the man would arrive within minutes, Grey ended the call and began to assess Irelyn’s injuries.

Her pulse was good, which was a tremendous relief. He removed her shoes, and as he moved to unzip her pants, he realized something shocking. He had removed Irelyn’s clothes numerous times, but he had never taken pants off of her before. She always wore dresses or skirts, even when she was on a job. The only time he’d seen her in anything resembling trousers was when she wore workout clothing.

As he slid the pants down, he understood the reason behind the clothing, and his concern grew stronger. Her long, slender legs were a mass of bruises, scratches, and cuts. A particularly painful-looking bruise covered her right hip and upper thigh and she had a nasty cut on her left calf. As he continued on, anger blended with his concern. Whoever had done this to her would pay.

He unbuttoned her blouse and noted she had apparently received some sort of medical treatment for her injuries. A large bandage covered her left side at her waist. Not wanting to cause her pain by lifting her to take off her blouse, he pulled a knife from the sheath at his waist. He didn’t usually wear one in his home, but he’d been headed out when he’d heard the alarm on the private elevator. He had barely believed his eyes when he’d watched on camera as Irelyn had entered the passcode. She had entered the right numbers but had forgotten to press enter. It had been obvious she was in severe distress to have forgotten something so simple. The instant he’d seen her pale, bloodless face and glazed eyes, his heart had almost stopped.

After cutting the blouse from her body, he was relieved to see that, though she was badly bruised, nothing seemed to be broken.

Grey pulled the covers over her naked body and leaned down to kiss her forehead. Her soft, silky skin against his mouth called to mind the thousand times he’d kissed her before. He wanted to be able to do that a million times more.

He tried to console himself that she had come to him. Out of all the places she could have gone, she’d come back home. That consolation went only so far. When she was well, would she try to run again?

Their lives had always been complicated. What had started off in deception and death had formed into an unlikely partnership. Between pockets of peace and happiness, their rough beginning had always hovered like a dark thundercloud over them. In their early years, while he hadn’t liked it, he had understood her need to run from him. She had needed to prove to herself that she wasn’t dependent upon him. She had fought long and hard for her independence, and while he had worried, he had understood her need to roam.