Chapter 5 - The Price of Touch
Eli Bennett had never been good at being kidnapped.
By the time Caleb found the van beneath an abandoned freight terminal on Chicago’s South Side, Eli had kicked one captor in the knee, bitten another, and discovered that insulting armed criminals was less effective than television suggested.
But he was alive.
That was all Nora cared about.
She ran across the warehouse when Caleb brought him out.
Eli wrapped his arms around her.
“You okay?”
Nora laughed through tears.
“I’m asking you that.”
“I’ve had better Tuesdays.”
Behind them, Vincent stepped from a black SUV.
He had discharged himself against medical advice.
Nora glared at him.
“You should be in the hospital.”
Eli looked between them.
“Is that seriously your first concern?”
“Yes.”
Vincent approached.
His eyes moved over Eli, confirming he was unharmed.
“Who took you?”
Eli’s humor disappeared.
“A woman came to my apartment building.”
“Description?”
“Blonde. Maybe late thirties. Expensive coat. Scar behind her left ear.”
Vincent stopped.
Caleb swore.
Nora understood.
“Celeste?”
Vincent nodded.
Eli continued.
“She didn’t stay. Two men grabbed me after she left.”
“Did she say anything?”
Eli looked at Nora.
“She said my sister should have let him burn.”
Vincent went completely still.
Nora reached for him instinctively.
Her palm touched his forearm.
His muscles relaxed beneath her hand.
Eli noticed.
So did Caleb.
Vincent looked at Nora.
“Take your brother home.”
“What about you?”
“I’m ending this.”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“No?”
“You were shot less than forty-eight hours ago.”
“She threatened your family.”
“And that doesn’t magically heal bullet wounds.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“Nora—”
“If you collapse in some warehouse because you ripped open an artery, I’m not stitching you up on the floor.”
Eli whispered to Caleb, “Does anyone normally talk to him like this?”
“No.”
“Is she going to die?”
Caleb considered.
“Apparently not.”
Vincent heard them.
For the first time in two days, something resembling amusement crossed his face.
Then pain hit.
His hand went to his ribs.
Nora caught him.
“Car. Now.”
He obeyed.
That frightened everyone more than if he had argued.
At Vincent’s lakefront penthouse, Nora changed his dressing while Eli ate everything in the refrigerator.
The home surprised her.
She expected cold marble and weapons.
There was plenty of marble.
And probably plenty of weapons.
But there were books everywhere.
Thousands.
“You read?”
Vincent looked offended.
“No. I bought four thousand books for decoration.”
Nora smiled.
“You make jokes.”
“Rarely.”
“Maybe blood loss improved your personality.”
He watched her.
“You’re different here.”
“Where?”
“With me.”
Nora’s hands stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t make yourself smaller.”
Her throat tightened.
He had noticed.
Of course he had.
Vincent noticed danger because survival depended on it.
Apparently, he noticed her too.
“I’ve spent a lot of years being told I take up too much space.”
His eyes moved over her face.
“By fools.”
Nora looked down.
“That sounded suspiciously like a compliment.”
“It was.”
“You should lie down. Clearly something’s wrong.”
Vincent caught her hand.
The movement was instinctive.
They both froze.
He was touching her.
Not because he was panicking.
Not because he was injured.
Because he wanted to.
His thumb rested against the inside of her wrist.
“I can feel you,” he whispered.
Nora’s breath caught.
“What?”
“After the fire, parts of my right side went numb.”
He guided her hand toward the scar across his ribs.
Nora hesitated.
“Vincent.”
“Please.”
She touched him.
His eyes closed.
No panic.
No flames.
Only warmth.
Vincent inhaled slowly.
“I spent eleven years thinking this part of me was dead.”
Nora’s eyes burned.
“It isn’t.”
His gaze opened.
“No.”
The space between them changed.
He lifted one hand toward her cheek.
Then stopped.
“May I?”
Nobody had asked Nora that question with such care.
She nodded.
Vincent touched her face.
His fingers trembled.
Nora leaned into his palm.
For one suspended moment, Chicago disappeared.
Then Caleb entered.
“Sorry.”
Vincent did not remove his hand.
Caleb stared at the ceiling.
“I can come back.”
“What?”
Vincent asked.
“We found Samuel Grant.”
The warmth vanished.
Grant was brought to the penthouse voluntarily, though the two enormous men beside him made the definition questionable.
He looked seventy.
And terrified.
When he saw Vincent, he began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Vincent remained seated.
“Tell me everything.”
Grant swallowed.
“Celeste planned the fire with someone inside your organization.”
Caleb’s expression changed.
“Who?”
“I never knew his name.”
“Then what do you know?”
Grant looked at Nora.
“The fire wasn’t only about Vincent.”
Nora frowned.
Grant continued.
“Celeste was looking for a ledger. Vincent’s father kept records connecting judges, contractors, unions, and waterfront companies. She believed it was inside the house.”
Vincent remembered.
“My father’s black ledger.”
“She never found it.”
Vincent’s gaze narrowed.
“Because it wasn’t there.”
Grant nodded.
“Someone else found it.”
“Who?”
Grant looked at Nora.
“You did.”
Nora laughed from shock.
“I was twenty. I pulled him out of a fire.”
“You also carried a leather medical pouch from the lawn.”
Memory struck.
Nora saw herself kneeling beside Vincent.
Something under his body.
A black leather book.
She had moved it.
“Where did I put it?”
Grant shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Vincent stared at Nora.
Celeste had spent eleven years searching for something Nora did not even remember possessing.
Then Eli appeared in the doorway.
“Uh, Nora?”
Everyone turned.
He held an old cardboard box.
“Mom kept your college stuff.”
Nora stared at it.
Eli had retrieved it from their mother’s storage unit months earlier.
Inside were textbooks, photographs, an old stethoscope—
and a black leather notebook.
Vincent stood.
Caleb swore.
Nora opened it.
Pages of names.
Payments.
Dates.
Politicians.
Police officers.
Companies.
And one name repeated more than any other.
Caleb Rourke.
Nora looked up.
Caleb had gone pale.
Vincent turned slowly toward the man who had protected him for fifteen years.
Caleb raised both hands.
“Vince, I can explain.”
A gunshot shattered the penthouse window.
Grant fell.
Nora screamed.
Vincent threw himself over her.
A second bullet struck the wall.
Caleb drew his weapon.
“Down!”
Nora felt Vincent’s body covering hers.
Then she felt warmth spreading across her hands.
Blood.
“Vincent?”
He did not answer.
She rolled him over.
The bullet had torn through his side.
Again.
His eyes fluttered.
Nora pressed both hands against the wound.
“Stay with me.”
Vincent looked at her through fading consciousness.
His fingers closed around hers.
May you like
And even as armed men raced through the penthouse, he whispered the same words he had spoken in the hospital.
“Don’t let go.”
