Shattered With You

Chapter Five

Those sweet and bitter memories wash over me as I stand in The Hollywood Terrace's ornate ballroom and watch as Quincy Radcliffe walks toward me. The man to whom I once gave my heart and my soul, my submission and my trust. The man who, for three months in London, was my entire world.

I'd revealed so much to him. Secrets. Hopes. My deepest fears, my most horrible memories.

I'd told him things that only Emma knew, shared all the shadows of my past.

I'd opened my heart, and he'd challenged me. Pushed me. Protected me.

He'd taken me in hand, and he'd peeled away the layers, just as he promised he would. He'd revealed desires and needs I'd kept buried, and in his arms I felt more like myself than I ever thought possible.

He'd loved me. He'd cherished me.

At least that's what I thought.

Because once he'd truly captured me—once I was so in love with him that it felt like I'd been filled with light—he shattered me completely.

He left.

Just up and walked away, taking my heart and my soul with him.

And the son-of-a-bitch never once looked back.

So what the hell can he possibly know about Emma's disappearance?

***

"Trust you?" Denny's words rattled in Quince's brain as he closed the distance between him and Eliza. "Hell, yeah, I trust you. But I still want to know what you're up to."

"So demanding," he murmured.

"Dammit, Quince. I'm your partner, not some nosy neighbor."

He put a hand over his mouth as if stifling a yawn. "I've located an ally."

That wasn't exactly true. Once upon a time, Eliza Tucker would have done anything for him. But things had changed. Hell, he'd been the one who changed them.

He knew he'd hurt her, and God knew it had ripped him up inside. Everything he'd suffered—every horror that he'd endured during those ten torturous weeks had felt like nothing compared to the pain in his heart when he realized that he couldn't go back to her. Couldn't even say goodbye for fear he'd—

No.

Now wasn't the time, not when he was working to a tight window. Not when Denny and the task force were waiting. And certainly not when the life of a thirteen-year-old girl hung in the balance.

Eliza might hate him—most of the time, he hated himself—but she would help him. He'd make sure of it.

He drew a breath, forcing his mind back to the present as he closed off those dark memories, locking them up tight inside the hidden corners of his mind. Over the years, he'd become an expert at pushing away the hell he'd endured. Or, at least, he told himself that he had. Considering how often the past seemed to haunt him lately, he couldn't help but wonder if those walls were starting to crack.

"An ally? Who the hell—"

"Not now." The words were terse, his lips barely moving. He was closer now, and Eliza had noticed him. From the Arctic ice in those deep blue eyes, he knew he'd been right; this wasn't going to be a warm and welcoming reunion.

Then again, under the circumstances, any greeting milder than castration counted as a win. God knew he deserved a hell of a lot worse.

"Mr. Canton!" Lassiter unpeeled his right hand from Eliza's back, then held it out to Quince for a firm handshake. "You have the look of a man who's enjoying himself."