The car rolled to a stop in front of a building that looked like it had been abandoned since the invention of indoor plumbing. The brick facade was crumbling, the windows boarded up, and the only sign of life was a flickering neon "OPEN" sign above a door that very much did not look open.
Malone killed the engine.
I stared. "If this is a safe house, I'd hate to see your idea of a dangerous one."
No response. Typical.
He got out, circled the car, and opened my door before I could even attempt to peel myself off the leather. Every muscle in my body had apparently decided now was the perfect time to stage a mutiny. I groaned as I shifted, my ribs aching and my wound sore.
I swung my legs out, wincing as my ankle reminded me that, yes, it was still pissed. "You know, a little warning next time you decide to take me to Scooby-Doo's Haunted Hideout would be nice."
"Yes, Madame." Malone hooked an arm under my shoulders and hauled me upright like I weighed nothing. Which, given how much blood I was pretty sure I'd lost, might've been close to true.
The alley smelled like wet garbage and cat pee. Terrific. Just what the doctor ordered for someone very close to vomiting and passing out.
Malone steered me toward the door, his grip firm but not crushing. For a guy who could probably snap me in half without breaking a sweat, he had a weirdly gentle touch.
The door creaked open before we reached it.
Nathan stood in the doorway, backlit by a dim yellow bulb that did nothing flattering for either of us. His suit was rumpled, his tie loosened, and his expression—well. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looked relieved.
And guilty.
What exactly had Nathan been doing during the time I was literally stuck to a chair having a conversation with Viktor?
"I'm sorry," Nathan said, cupping my face.
"What are you sorry for?"
"Everything. I ... you deserve better."
"Did you kidnap me?"
"No, of course not!"
"Just checking."
Nathan's gaze flicked over me—blood, bruises, the whole "I got kidnapped and all I got was this lousy trauma" aesthetic—and his expression darkened. He tilted my face to check my neck.. His thumb brushed over a cut on my under my jaw. His touch was gentle, and his expression regretful.
"Who did this?"
"A lovely Russian gentleman named Viktor. He wore a ski mask, but he was a big guy with a buzz cut. Dressed in kidnapper black. Oh, and when I left, he had a chair leg sticking out of his thigh." I pointed at myself. "I did that. Because, let's be honest, that guy was a dick."
I swayed, suddenly feeling light-headed. "You know what? I don't feel all that great."
"You're too pale." Nathan scooped me into his arms and turned, going inside. Malone followed, shutting the door behind us and then leaning against it.
The inside of the building was—surprise—not a crack den. Instead, it was a sparse but clean space, with a worn couch, a desk covered in monitors, and a mini-fridge humming in the corner.
A real safe house.
Malone deposited me onto the couch like I was fragile cargo. I hissed as my ribs protested, but at this point, pain was just my body's way of saying "hello."
Nathan crouched in front of me, his hands braced on his knees. "What happened? Start at the beginning."
I sighed. "Okay, You left me in the hospital. Oh, by the way, how's Fiona?"
"On her way to Paris," said Nathan with a grimace.
To say Nathan shipped off his white moonlight to France was like saying Wang Hao Zhen was an trash-eating ogre. Impossible to believe. (Side note: Have you seen the beauty that is Wang Hao Zhen? Drool.)
"Why would you get rid of her? Isn't she your childhood sweetheart?"
"No," said Nathan. He glanced away, and I swear I saw that same expression of guilt. "We knew each other as kids. But she's been abroad since she was sixteen-years-old. She's not the same person."
Oh, I bet Fiona was the same person, only now her bitch level had reached EXPERT.
"Vanessa." Nathan's gaze held mine, steady. Unwavering. "She's gone. And even if she was still here, I'm done with her. I'll focus on you. We can build a real marriage together."
If he had said these words in my last life, I would've melted into a puddle of Nathan-loving goo. But now?
"Let's talk about it later," I said.
For a second, he just looked at me. Then he nodded and stood. "Good."
"What about the kidnapping?" asked Malone.
Nathan's expression hardened. "Find the bastards."
The way he said it sent a chill down my spine. Not the scared kind—the kind that made the hair on your arms stand up because you knew something worse was coming. Nathan had two modes: controlled and catastrophic. Right now, he was toeing the line between them.
"I'd really like to avoid round two of Hostage: The Vanessa Experience." I cleared my throat. "Why are they interested in the Eastern Sun land deal?"
"Rumor has it that Ash City wants to build a city park on that land. We went to a lot of trouble to buy it," said Nathan.
"Why would someone kidnap me over that?"
"It's worth billions," said Nathan.
"Someone thinks I'm worth billions to you?" I laughed. "Wow. They are misinformed."
"You are priceless," he said.
I stared at Nathan. "Did you drink some weird Vanessa-is-awesome juice?"
"What?" He looked stricken. "What ... do you mean?"
"It's not like you were awful to me. Not exactly. But since I confessed at the contract signing six months, you've been ... not a fan of mine." I sighed. "Especially after Fiona showed up."
"I should've accepted your feelings."
My mouth dropped open. "Crazy billionaire says what now?"
"You need rest and a doctor. We'll handle the assholes who thought kidnapping you was a great idea. I'll protect you this time, Neenie."
Malone's phone buzzed, and he retrieved it from his jacket pocket. He listened to the caller, his expression stoic. He ended the call and then met Nathan's gaze. "We found Mr. Haynes."