Claimed Darker by Em Brown

Chapter 52

DARREN

Present

Bridget falls asleep in my arms in the bed of Old Dog’s guest room. She’s probably exhausted by the day’s events and everything I put her through. After holding her for a while, I extricate myself. I fold the bedcover over her as a blanket, put on my pants, and head downstairs to the basement.

Marshall is sitting next to JD’s lifeless body. “So what do you want to do, boss?”

I look down at my cousin. You stupid motherfucker. Why?

I can and can’t believe I killed my own cousin. If only he had come to me, I would have assured him that I would take care of Bridget. I’d move to the ends of the Earth with her if I had to. To keep her quiet and alive. But knowing JD, he probably wanted the easier solution, the one that guarantees he won’t have to worry. Now that I think about it more, he couldn’t live worry free about someone who actually obeys the minimum drinking age law. He doesn’t know she broke it having champagne with me.

And I couldn’t guarantee that she’d never inform the authorities with what she knows. What I don’t understand is why she hasn’t so far. But at some point, if it did look like she might, I’d have to do something. I’d have to make a choice sooner or later.

Still, I hate him for making me choose between him and Bridget now. Only it didn’t even feel like a choice. There was no hesitation before I pulled that trigger.

So maybe this was inevitable.

I wonder if JD had anything to do with the mysterious text to Mei Ling. Why did he have to go and do that? To cause Bridget anguish before he had her killed? I ball my hand into a fist. We were brothers. How could he have betrayed me like this?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Marshall says. “I stepped outside for a smoke. When I saw it was JD, I didn’t think anything of it. You want me to drop Travis? He’ll be on his way back after the hospital’s done taking out the slug you put into his leg.”

“Let me get Bridget out of the house first. Then you can take care of Travis. Make it look like he shot JD.”

“Got it, boss.” He nods at my arm. “You should get that looked at. Looks like JD got you pretty good.”

“I didn’t get this from JD. I got it from Bridget.”

“Love wound, eh?”

“Yeah.”

“You stick with her, what’s next?”

I think of what I’ve put her through and answer, “Probably a kick in the balls—if I’m lucky.”

I head back upstairs and look for bandages. I don’t find any, so I grab a pillowcase and go to wake Bridget.

“Let’s get you back to our son,” I tell her as I fold the pillowcase.

She sits up and orients herself. Seeing me try to wrap the pillowcase around my arm, she kneels on the bed and helps me.

“Sorry I did this to you,” she says. “Well…”

“Not really,” we say in unison.

“I know: I deserved it.”

“And then some. You know how scared I was?”

I throw on a shirt. “You want me to get your shoes from downstairs?”

“No! I’m never wearing those heels again. I’d rather go barefoot.”

I throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the car. I’d like to stay and help out Marshall, but I want to get Bridget out of here, and I’m confident that Marshall can handle things on his own.

“We’re in California?!” Bridget exclaims when we’ve driven a while and she recognizes the highway.

“Yes,” I reply as I head to the nearest local airport.

“You kidnapped me and brought me all the way here?”

“Easier than scouting out a good place around Denver.” I let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.”

She’s quiet, then looks at me to say, “I’m sorry, too.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“About…about what happened with…”

She can’t say his name.

I can’t either, so I say instead, “You have nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t realize you knew about the triad. But that explains why you did what you did.”

I grow silent, then slam the steering wheel with my fist. She jumps.

“I fucked up your life,” I explain. “You didn’t get to do your fellowship in Sacramento, you didn’t get to finish your last year at Cal, you moved all the way to Denver.”

I think about how we made love not too long ago. But what if it was the last time? What if she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me after this? I wouldn’t blame her.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

Misery slices through me.

“But I don’t miss that now,” she finishes. “My life in Denver has been special because of Ethan.”

I look at her in amazement. This woman can bounce back from anything. Did I sense that from the beginning, from the time I laid eyes on her in that ugly sweater?

I think back to Marshall’s question: if you stick with her, what’s next?

So far I’ve had a drink to the face. Two bullets. A knife.

Whatever’s next, bring it on.

“I like the name Ethan,” I say.

Silence ensues again, but not for too long.

“Would you like to meet your son?” she asks.

Suddenly my heart is in my throat. When I speak, it comes out hoarsely. “Yes, please.”