Denial (Careless Whispers #1)(90)

“I am. Thank you for the cookies and the great conversation.”

It’s then that she says what has been in the air but not discussed. “This is his life. He needs you. I see it in his eyes, but be sure you can handle this before you do something like fall in love with him.”

Love. It’s a big word, and it’s not the first time I’ve wondered if that is where I’m headed with Kayden. “I can handle it. I just might need cookies and talk sessions here or there.”

She smiles her approval. “Cookies and conversations I can do.” She waves, and just like Kayden, she is gone, and I’m alone inside the tower.

I sit there and don’t move for quite some time. Just blank. No memories. No real thoughts. I think I am blocking it all out. Oh, how my mind likes to protect me and then turn around and destroy me.

An idea hits me and I stand, rushing to the bedroom closet, where I dig out my ballet slippers. Excited to give them a try, I hurry back to the hallway and open the panel leading to the gym. I all but run until I hit the fork in the path again and stop dead in my tracks, curiosity killing me. I have lots of time to kill, and exploring would be fun. So, hmmmm. Which way to go?

I choose left, and a short hallway leads me to a door. I open it and find an office with a giant, curved blond wood desk in the center, a fancy etched design in the wood, with two tan leather chairs, and bookshelves framing it. I inhale and smile; the sweet, spicy scent of Kayden is everywhere. I’m definitely staying a while. I move forward, rounding the desk to sit down, placing my slippers on the shiny surface, trailing my hands over the smooth wood and admiring the knobs that are in the shape of hawks. “The Hawk,” I whisper. “Kayden is The Hawk. He has to protect his people.”

I rest my elbows on the leather desk pad, thinking of what that kind of responsibility must feel like, my eyes catching on a file sticking out that reads Gallo. Frowning, I grab it and flip it open to find every piece of Gallo’s life since childhood inside. It’s very personal, and I feel like I’m invading his privacy by reading it. I shut it and set it aside. Why would Kayden have this? Unless . . . he’s planning something involving Gallo? Maybe he just wants to know the man who’s clearly out to get him. That, I can see for sure.

Then I see another file, one that reads Ella on the front. My breath hitches and a sense of foreboding washes over me that I don’t understand. Of course he has a file on me. He’s trying to figure out who I am.

Still, I have to inhale a calming breath, air trickling from my lips as I open it. My heart begins to race, charging so fast, it feels like it might explode from my chest. There’s only one thing in the file: a snapshot of the butterfly necklace.

Not a drawing. An actual photo.

I only just told him about the necklace, and why would he have Tyler draw it, if he knew what it looked like?

Kayden knew about the necklace but didn’t tell me.

I tell myself there’s a good reason, but I can’t think of what that can be.

I stand up, barely able to breathe. I need air. I need space. I run out of the room and down the stairs, and don’t stop until my purse is over my shoulder. I leave my coat behind, needing the realness of the cold. I need to decide whether I talk to Kayden about this or dig for answers on my own. I’m also reminded that he felt familiar from day one. Why? Why? And damn it, I do not want to doubt the one person I have trusted, the man I feel so connected to.

But I can’t be a fool, either. The idea drives me forward, and my mind and emotions are so jumbled that I blink—I am at the front door of the castle and don’t even remember the walk. I reach for the knob and it bursts open. I back up and watch in disbelief as the men from the bar last night carry a bleeding man inside.

Kayden follows, speaking into his phone. “Why the f*ck aren’t you here already, Nathan? Hurry the hell up.” He ends the call and the men charge toward the center tower steps, blood dripping everywhere, and a series of images flashes through my mind. My father was a medic in the army, and he taught me about that, too.

“Stop!” I shout, racing after them. “Put him down before you make him lose too much blood, or put him into shock!”

The men pause and look at Kayden, who I feel at my back.

I whirl around. “Put him down if you want him to live.”

Kayden doesn’t hesitate. “Do it!” he orders.

They lower the man, who I assume is Enzo, to the floor and I drop to my knees next to him, applying pressure to the wound in his chest, but he’s bleeding from his arm, too. He’s not moving and pale.

Kayden kneels across from me and applies pressure to his arm, checking his pulse as he does. “It’s weak.”

“He’s losing too much blood,” I say, eyeing one of the men. “I need you to hold where I’m holding.”

The man swiftly joins me on the ground, replacing my hands with his, but before I fully release my hold, I warn, “Don’t let go or he’ll die.”

Then I climb over Enzo to get to Kayden, unhook his belt, and pull it from the loops. “I need your shirt to wrap the wound. I’ll keep pressure on his arm while you take it off.”

My hand replaces his and he yanks his shirt over his head. “You wrap his arm,” he says, “and I’ll belt it.”

“Good. Belt it really tight.”

He gives me a nod, and in a blur of movement, we have the tourniquet on. Enzo moans, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a good sign.