Torn (Lords of the City #1) (32 page)

“It’s over,” he promised, tightening his grip around me. “You’re safe now. I’m taking you home.”

Inconsolable, I didn’t protest when he took me into the bathroom and turned on a cool shower. Stripping me down, he shepherded me into the water, and though it soaked the sleeves of his dress shirt, he scrubbed my hair and ran a cloth over my body, helping me wash the pain away. When I was clean, he helped me dress into a fresh pair of shorts and a tank top. I didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing, growing numb.

“What happened?” I asked, sitting on the bed with my arms crossed as he packed my bags. It was boiling out, but I was cold.

“There was a raid,” he told me. “The revolutionaries invaded the village in search of the patent.”

“I heard a woman scream,” I recalled. “And then Corey ran…”

I stopped. Corey. He hadn’t come back yet.

“Where’s Corey?”

Noah didn’t answer. Instead, he took my journals from the writing desk and tucked them gently into my rucksack.

Oh God.

“Tell me!” I screeched, finding the silence unbearable.

He set the rucksack down and faced me, sorrow etched within the creases of his face. “He was captured and taken hostage.”

I gasped and shook my head. “No. That can’t be.”

“It’s the truth.”

Looking at my rucksack, I felt a pain in my stomach. All I wanted to do was get on the private jet and never return, but not if Corey was prisoner within the jungle. “We can’t go,” I insisted. “Not until he’s released. He needs us here fighting for him.”

“You think I haven’t considered that?” Noah said, his anguish evident. “I’m coming back, as soon as I see you home safely.”

“I won’t go,” I proclaimed.

“It’s what he’d want,” Noah insisted.

“Probably, but he wouldn’t leave me, and I won’t leave him.”

Noah swallowed. “You love him.”

I shook my head, looking at the brother who held my heart. “No. Not Corey. But I care deeply for him. We understand each other. We share a wildness.”

“You really won’t go, will you?” Noah asked, studying me.

“No,” I said boldly. “I won’t.”

Dropping his broad shoulders, he pulled me off the bed until we knelt on the floor facing each other. The sorrow that he carried terrified me. Taking my hands, he squeezed them forebodingly. “There’s more.”

His voice shook as he began, and I knew it was bad.

“I talked to Barrett on the flight over,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “A few hours after the raid, reports started circulating that one of the hostages perished unexpectedly. They think it was Corey. There’s no reason you should suffer the torment of waiting, not when you’ve already been through so much. I was only going to tell you after we knew for sure.”

Taking a shuddering breath, I let my own tears fall, swollen with heartache. “But they don’t know for sure?” I asked, trying to grasp on to hope before my body and soul crumbled completely.

“No. They don’t know for sure, but they’re pretty certain.” Pressing his hands to his head, he wept, great aching sobs that tore me in two. “I couldn’t save him. I tried, and I failed.”

***

The following day, we still hadn’t heard any news about Corey. Swallowed by our grief, we paced the room, listening to the radio. At times, Noah left to get food from the canteen. More men like Barrett and Corey had arrived — vigilantes summoned to protect the village and rescue the hostages. It was a war between armies, or so Noah told me. He wouldn’t let me leave the residence. Vaulted in, I was safe.

“You know I love you,” he burst out one evening as we sat outside, needing the fresh air to fend off the walls and the worry. Even a man as austere as Noah Stafford could be worn down by the torment of waiting, left raw, scoured down to his hidden truths.

“I know,” I replied, picking at a blade of grass. “But sometimes love isn’t enough. You pushed me away.”

“Because I was in a race against time to save Corey, a race I’d been stuck in ever since we were kids. I didn’t know how to break free. And then you came along, and you showed me what happiness looked like, but I couldn’t let go.”

“He’s your twin. I understand,” I said. “Not in the way you handled it, but why you did it. You were coming from a place of love. I can’t fault you for that.”

“You can, and you should,” he insisted. “I knew you wanted more, but I was too afraid to provide it, even though you’re the one person in this world I want to give everything to.”

I couldn’t comment, couldn’t say a word. Not with rumors of Corey’s death circulating throughout the camp. Already, I’d been offered black beads of mourning, mistaken for his wife. I wouldn’t wear them, even if the reports claimed Corey’s heart had given out. I refused to believe it, not because of my own instincts, but because of Noah’s. Twins shared a bond no one could begin to understand. Noah was devastated, but he wasn’t broken, and that gave me hope that somewhere inside of him, he knew Corey was alive.

We didn’t have to wait much longer to find out. Later that night, waking us from vulgar nightmares, we got the call. Noah picked up his phone, listening intently, unreadable. Holding my breath, I waited for him to deliver the news.

Pale, he dropped his phone on the writing desk and turned to me. “The reports, they were about Corey.”

I
stopped breathing, my chest filling with intolerable pain, making it impossible to speak. Hugging a pillow from the bed, I slumped onto the floor and rocked back and forth, in too much anguish to cry.

Gently, Noah took the pillow from my arms. “Imogen, listen to me,” he commanded. “The reports were about Corey, but they were inaccurate. He’s not dead. He’s in the hospital, having collapsed. The revolutionaries must have thought he had died and left him. He was found and taken to an emergency room. I’m going to go get him now, and then we’re all going home.”

“He’s alive?” I needed to hear him say it again.

Beaming, Noah nodded. “He’s alive.”

I threw my arms around Noah’s neck, elated, and somewhere in the sea of emotions that poured between us, tearing at our depths with its powerful current, my lips found his, and we kissed with a passion that outshone the sun. Like a picture reel, the time we’d shared together in Chicago flashed before me — the seduction, the storm, his lessons, my father, the gala — they seared into my brain. It was healing, drawing us together in a way that left me breathless and weak when it was over.

And undeniably still in love.

***

With reluctance, I’d watched Noah walk out the door, fearing the worst. The jungle was a dangerous place, and Corey was far away. But I had nothing to worry about. When the door opened again, the Stafford brothers walked in together, Noah supporting Corey on his shoulder.

Happiness burst through me as I stood to greet them. “Corey, you’re here.”

“And so are you,” he returned, beaming through a slightly bruised eye. “I knew you could handle it. You’re strong.”

“We all are,” I said. “And now that we’ve proven it, let’s go home. I’m sick of this place.”

I reached for my rucksack, but Corey didn’t follow. Instead, he hopped over to the bed and sat. “I’m not leaving.”

“What?” I cried. “After everything you’ve been through?”

“It was only a concussion. It wasn’t my heart. I’m fine. And now that I’ve seen firsthand the conditions the hostages are living in, I can’t go back, not until they’re safe. I have important intel I can provide. They need me here.”

Recognizing the stubbornness in his tone, having heard it many times from Noah, I accepted that there was nothing we could say or do to change Corey’s mind. I was devastated. “I can’t stay,” I muttered softly.

“I know,” Corey said sadly, our paths dividing once again “You’re not meant to.”

Grimacing as he listened, Noah didn’t look any less distraught than the rest of us, but for once, he didn’t argue. “Promise us you’ll come home and visit when this is all over.”

“I will,” Corey vowed. “I may even stick around for a while.”

With a heavy spirit, I threw my rucksack over my back. “If you don’t come home, we’ll find you,” I said, attempting a smile.

Corey took a deep breath. “I know you will. Be happy. Be together. Love each other. Do it for me.”

Hugging him goodbye, I prayed that he would stay safe, and before a fresh batch of tears could fall, I hurried to the door. Noah shook his hand and followed, but as we were about to leave, Corey called out to his brother.

“Yes?” Noah asked.

Corey glanced at me, his eyes shining, and then he turned to Noah. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. You know what you have. Watch over her.”

Noah stalked across the room and grabbed his brother, pulling him into his arms. The tears I’d been holding back fell as I watched the brothers hug, hanging onto each other, their fingers digging into each other’s backs.

They stood that way for long moments, not saying a word.

“I love you, Corey,” Noah said finally, pulling back and clapping a hand on his twin’s shoulder.

“I love you too, bro. Now go. Be happy together.”

Noah nodded and stepped away. Turning, he took my hand, then glanced back at his brother. “You too, Corey.” Then he grinned. “You officially have my permission to be happy however and wherever you want.”

Corey’s laughter followed us out the door.

***

On the private jet back to Chicago, I sat across from Noah, our knees bumping against each other as we drank each other in.

“Are you okay?” he asked me and leaned forward to take my hands in his.

Linking our fingers together, I met the eyes I loved so much. Corey had freed me from any emotional promise that had once held us together, and I was free to be here with Noah, if he still wanted me.

“I’m sorry,” I told him and watched his face cloud with pain. I realized he thought I was rejecting him and quickly went on, “I’m sorry I’ve been so confused. So hurt. So unsure of what to do or who to turn to.”

His face softened. “No, Imogen. It’s me who’s sorry. I’ve allowed my brother to be the wall between me and the world for too long. Way too long. He was my excuse to hide in my castle, as you called it. My excuse to not let anyone close.” He swallowed and his eyes glistened. “My excuse to push you away.”

“And now?” I asked him, holding my breath.

He gripped my fingers tighter. “And now I’m tired of being a fucking idiot. I’m tired of being alone. Tired of fighting what I feel for you. Tired of waking up in the morning and wishing you were beside me.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and moved closer to me, stroking a thumb over my bottom lip. “I love you, Imogen. And I know you’re still probably confused about what you feel for me and for Corey, but—”

“No!” I said, cutting him off and releasing my own seatbelt, scooting forward to the edge of my seat. “I’m not confused at all. I love you. I love the compassion you hold for people you’ll never know. I love how you’re willing to risk your happiness so others can have theirs.”

He pulled me to him and I crawled into his lap, pressing my face into his warm neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, kissing my hair, his hand stroking my thigh.

I looked up at him, needing to see his eyes. “That isn’t true. We all deserve love. Even the lord of the city deserves happiness.”

My heart squeezed in my chest as a tear slid down his cheek. I followed its path with my finger, not brushing it away, but allowing it to sink into his skin, giving him back the emotion he so seldom gave.

“I’ll never see him again,” Noah said and another tear traced the same path.

“You will,” I promised. “In your thoughts. In your heart. The love you have for him will never leave you.”

“It isn’t the same,” he said and kissed my thumb.

“No, it isn’t. But love is love. Death or distance can never destroy it.”

He kissed me then, a gentle meeting of our lips. Then we made love, our bodies melting into each other, taking and giving. No lessons. Only love.

Later, fully clothed, Noah continued to hold me tight as we cuddled in his seat, ignoring the announcement to prepare for landing. Stroking my hair with a soft affection, we were too happy to move, and so we stayed, staring out the window, lost in our bliss.

Chicago appeared below us, full of daylight.

The End

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