CHRISTIAN
She’s here. She’s safe.
I repeated the words in my head as I held Stella tight.
Tiny shivers rippled through her body, and even though she was almost as tall as me, she felt fragile. Breakable.
Fierce protectiveness burned in my chest.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” I murmured. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
She buried her face deeper in my neck, her soft sobs twisting my heart like a wrung-out rag.
I was holding her again for the first time in weeks, but this wasn’t how I’d wanted it to be.
Not with her bruised, hurt, and terrified.
The relief I’d felt at seeing her alive gave way to renewed rage.
My cold gaze found Julian over Stella’s shoulder.
He glared back at me, his eyes filled with hatred, but he didn’t say a word as Steele and Mason secured him with restraints.
I’d recognized Julian’s face from his Washington Weekly bio. I also recognized it from the background check I’d run on his grandmother when she first bought her apartment at the Mirage. After she died, the property passed to him.
I didn’t involve myself in the mundane details of tenant turnover, so I hadn’t connected that detail.
No wonder there’d been no evidence of him leaving the Mirage after he broke into Stella’s apartment. He’d been inside it the whole time.
“Keep him alive,” I said. “I’ll deal with him personally.”
I wanted the pleasure of tearing the bastard apart myself.
However, a glimmer of pride sparked in my chest when I saw the nasty wound on his neck. Stella must’ve taken a chunk out of him before we arrived.
That’s my girl.
Steele nodded. “You got it.”
We’d tracked Julian down via the credit card he’d used for his car rental, then tracked the car to this shittastic cabin in the Virginia woods. The car’s built-in GPS made that easy.
I hadn’t wanted to take any chances, so I’d called in a handful of men to accompany me and dispatched another to get Brock.
Julian must’ve drugged him and Stella with different substances—one to incapacitate Brock and get him out of the room, the other to disorient her.
I wanted nothing more than to flay him alive, but Stella took priority.
I rubbed a hand over her back. “We’ll check into a hotel and get you cleaned up,” I murmured. “I have a doctor who can meet us there and take a look at your wounds.”
I hated hospitals. All that fucking paperwork and lax security. It was easier to take care of her myself.
When she gave a tiny, silent nod, I left my men to deal with the mess in the cabin and gently guided her into my car.
My anger flared again at the sight of her cuts and bruises in bright daylight, but I tamped it down.
Later. Once I made sure she was okay, I could take all the time I wanted dismantling Julian.
Stella didn’t speak as I pulled away from the cabin.
I wanted to take her back to my apartment, but I didn’t want to violate the boundaries she’d established during our breakup.
However, when we arrived at the nearest decent hotel, she didn’t budge from the car.
She stared at the entrance, her knuckles white around her knees.
“Can we go to your house instead?” she asked quietly. “I want to be somewhere safe.”
My heart roared to life, but I kept my voice even. “Of course.”
Dr. Abelson was already waiting for us when we arrived at the Mirage. He was technically retired, but one of my clients had referred me to him years ago when I’d mentioned needing a private, discreet doctor.
Apparently, Abelson needed something other than golf and television to pass the time during retirement.
I didn’t need the other residents asking questions, so I took us through the back entrance up to my penthouse.
I had a special room set aside for medical treatment, and I watched impatiently as Abelson introduced himself to Stella and checked her injuries.
“Is she okay?” I demanded after an interminable length of time that was in reality less than thirty minutes.
“She has a few cuts and bruises, plus a mild concussion, but she’ll be fine,” he said. “Nothing time and rest won’t heal.”
The diagnosis should’ve placated me, but all I focused on was the word concussion.
I mentally added another fifteen minutes to my time with Julian.
“I’ll do it,” I said when he moved to bandage one of her cuts. “You can leave. Thank you.”
Other than a small lift of his eyebrows, Abelson didn’t react to my request.
“Do I want to know what happened?” he asked as he packed his bag. He kept his voice low
Stella sat on the far side of the room. She’d been silent during her examination, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear us.
“No.” He was on call to handle medical issues, but I kept him out of the loop on how, exactly, those issues arose.
“That’s what I figured.” He shook his head. “Call me if any complications arise. I don’t anticipate they will, but you have my number.”
That was why I liked Abelson. He was discreet, competent, and didn’t ask unnecessary questions.
After he left, I finished bandaging Stella’s cuts.