Page 88 of Ruined By a Devil

“And it feels so good to do it,” I smile. He pulls out of me and collapses next to me on the mattress, his right hand laying on my chest, holding me.

We lie there for a long time, but my mind won’t stop even for a second. I can’t stop trying to find a different solution, one that might be better and wouldn’t require to put an ocean between us. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to find one.

I lift a hand, my fingers tracing the base of his neck, feeling the familiar beat of his heart against my chest.

“Mal?” I whisper into the dark.

“Yeah?”

“What happens if you can’t find him?” I ask.

The question hangs in the quiet space between us for a while. It is the one thing we haven’t dared to say out loud.

What if Nolan slips through the net? What if the tracking device and the motel raid were just the beginning of a war that has no end, and I remain stuck across the ocean while he bleeds out in New Orleans?

Malachi slowly lifts his head. He looks down at me, the shadows hiding his eyes. “I’ll never stop looking,” he says, his tone confident. “I’ll tear this city apart block by block, and burn every dock and warehouse he owns to the ground, and if I have to, I will cross the ocean to find him. There is no place for him to hide, Jade.”

I look at him, really look at him, and I believe him.

“Good,” I say.

I pull his head back down, pressing my mouth to his, tasting the salt on his lips, holding onto him tightly in the dark before the sun comes up to take me away.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Jade

The bags are already loaded into the trunk of the lead SUV. When Malachi and I walk out the front door, the crisp morning air hits my skin, but I barely feel it. Four vehicles are waiting, ready, in the driveway, their engines humming low.

Malachi walks around the vehicle, his eyes scanning the tree line, the roofline, the open stretch of the road.

“Nothing should be left to chance.”

He said those words to Zeke over the phone last night and I hate to admit it, but the more time I get to spend with my husband, the more I can understand exactly what he means by that.

“There was a last-minute route change,” he says as he opens my door. “We’re taking the old logging trail behind the ridge instead of the highway.”

“Of course there is.”

I slide into the passenger seat, the leather cold against my legs. He leans in, his hand resting on the frame of the door, his eyes locking onto mine. Even though he doesn't say anything about the distance we’re about to put between us, the look in his eyes says everything.

The convoy moves out in a tight, synchronized formation with two vehicles in front, our SUV in the middle, and a tail car tracking our blind spots. We remain silent during the entire ride and forty-five minutes later, the private airstrip comes into view.

It’s an isolated airfield tucked behind a row of rusted hangars. The perimeter is fenced with razor wire, and a single chain-link gate blocks the entrance. Our lead car pulls up to the gate, a guard stepping out. I watch from the car as he exchanges words with the man in the booth, and the gate swings open, allowing us to roll onto the tarmac.

The twin-engine charter plane sits waiting on the strip, its propeller spinning slow, kicking up a sharp gust of wind that smells of hot asphalt and jet fuel. Cain is already standing near the airstair, his heavy frame wrapped in a dark coat, while his hand rests casually near his sidearm. Six men stand behind him, each one of them guys Malachi trusts with his life.

Our SUV stops a few feet from the plane.

“Let me,” Malachi doesn’t let me move. He opens my door himself, his hand instantly wrapping around my elbow to anchor me.

When he steps outside with me, his eyes continue sweeping the hangars, the open field, the perimeter fence. He checks every face, every shadow, every window on the small terminal building before he lets me take a single step toward the stairs.

“Stay close no matter what,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing hard into my wrist and my soul hurts when I remember that soon I won’t be able to feel his skin on mine anymore.

The luggage handlers finish loading the bags into the plane. “You trust all of them?” I ask Malachi as we both watch the men do their job.

“I don’t even trust my own shadow when it comes to your security, Jade,” he responds. “But this is the best we can do.”