Chapter 9 - The Rainy Evening
The rain hit the windows of my downtown apartment in sudden, heavy sheets, rattling the old glass panes and turning the streetlights outside into blurred streaks of amber and gray. It was past midnight, and I was sitting at my small kitchen table reviewing the final ledger reconciliation when three sharp, heavy knocks sounded at my front door.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I stood up instantly, walking quietly across the hardwood floor and peering through the narrow brass peephole.
Ethan stood on the other side, drenched. His black suit jacket was soaked through, clinging to his broad shoulders, and dark water dripped from the strands of his gray-touched hair onto his forehead. He wasn't wearing his usual composed expression; his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were dark with an urgent, simmering fury.
I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. Before I could speak, Ethan stepped inside quickly, shutting the door behind him and throwing the security latch into place.
"Ethan? What happened?" I asked, reaching out to touch his soaked sleeve. "Why are you here? You shouldn't be at my apartment—if Vance's people are watching—"
"Vance's people tried to run my convoy off the overpass on the expressway twenty minutes ago," Ethan interrupted, his voice low, rough, and entirely steady despite the adrenaline pumping through him. He pulled off his wet suit jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa, revealing the black dress shirt clinging tightly to his torso and the intricate ink tattoos stark against his skin. "Two black sedans boxed my driver in near the toll plaza. We managed to take the maintenance exit and lose them through the industrial park, but they know we're moving the physical vouchers tonight."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "They tried to run you off the road? Ethan, this isn't just corporate sabotage anymore. This is violent."
"It's been violent for a long time, Olivia. I just kept it away from the light," he said, stepping closer to me until I could feel the residual chill radiating off his wet clothes. He reached out, his warm fingers gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "When I realized they might have tracked you here, I didn't go back to the estate. I came straight to you."
"You should have gone to your security detail," I whispered, though my hand came up to rest against his chest, feeling the heavy, steady thud of his heart beneath the wet silk of his shirt.
"My security detail is securing the vault at the tower," Ethan replied, looking down at me with an intensity that made the storm outside fade into complete insignificance. "You're the only place I wanted to be."
I led him into the small bathroom, pulling a clean, dry towel from the linen closet. He stood quietly in front of the sink as I gently dried the water from his temples and the sides of his trimmed dark beard. As I pressed a warm, damp cloth against a minor, bleeding graze along his right knuckle—sustained, no doubt, during whatever evasive maneuvers his driver had pulled off—he didn't flinch. He just watched me with those piercing, unreadable eyes.
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"You're bleeding," I murmured, my fingers trembling slightly against his hand.
"It's nothing," Ethan said softly, his other hand coming up to rest over mine on his wrist, holding me in place. "The real cut is what Vance is doing to the foundation. And tomorrow, we stop the bleeding for good."
