Like an anchor tossed to sea, my stomach drops even more, heavy and burdensome as discomfort rests at my feet.
“The stuff I told you about him, and his friends? Have you—”
“Have I what, Lenny? If you’re going to make accusations, spit them out.”
Removing my tongue from where it’s stuck to my cheek, I push away from him, glaring. “Are you murdering people for me?”
Stuffing his hands into his suit jacket pockets, he just stands there. Staring.
“Oh, my god.” Bile scorches up my esophagus, begging to be set free even as I swallow and swallow, trying to repress it. Spinning away, I start back the way I came, but he chases, grabbing my wrist and yanking me back. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you fucking dare, Jonas.”
He ignores me, pinning both my wrists between us. In a flash, he’s reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of dirty handcuffs, and within seconds I’m shackled and helpless.
“I was helping you, love. Finishing what you bloody started on the balcony at your parents’ house. Those bastards didn’t deserve to live, not after what they did to you.”
Tears sting my eyes, spilling over and streaming down my cheeks. I continue thrashing, my mind very quickly spiraling out of control as every emotion I’ve pressed down over the last year seems to come to the surface, collapsing together like the creation of the universe.
An ugly, raw, painful universe I never wanted to be a part of.
That people forced me into.
And here, this man I thought I could trust with my secrets, my shame, pushes me further into it.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I sob, feeling like my chest has been ripped open, my trauma displayed for all to see, even though it’s just the two of us here.
But it hurts, oh god does it hurt, as the memories rush past, forcing me to relive them one by one.
“You never would’ve asked,” Jonas chokes out. “And you shouldn’t have to, Lenny. You deserve to have someone in your corner without having to beg them to show up in the first place.”
The sobs grow in volume. In ferocity. I struggle to draw in a breath, sheer terror seizing the bones in my body, locking them up tight.
“That wasn’t your battle to win.” I punch against his chest, once twice, the handcuffs making the movement choppy. “That pain was mine, and you commandeered it. Stole it from me, and for what?”
“Because I bloody love you!”
I hiccup, staring up at him through blurry eyes. He exhales, bending to press his forehead against mine, and his fingers gingerly trace my jaw.
“Look,” he murmurs, his minty breath washing over my face. “I don’t know when it happened, or what it means, but bloody fucking hell, love. If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been quite enamored with you for some time now.”
My heart skips, hopeful in spite of the complete meltdown I just had. Am still having, albeit internally while he rambles.
“You might have been dealing with it on your own, but I… I couldn’t. I’m not strong enough to sit idly by while men who hurt you still roam this earth.”
Another hiccup from me, and I let his words soak in. Try to take them at face value, even though my brain is begging me to do anything but. It says not to trust him—that all the work it’s done over the last year is for naught if we’re just immediately going to fall in love with someone else.
Love hurts, my brain says.
But it also heals.
And my heart is a damn fool to its temptations.
My heart wants him.
His thumb strokes over my skin, and I suck in a deep, cleansing breath. Pinching my eyes closed, I nod. “Okay.”
Shock colors his face. “Okay?”
I shrug, tapping him with my restrained fists. “I’m resilient, remember?”
He laughs, tilting my face back for a kiss, and even though I don’t return the gesture, he doesn’t mention it.
When he pulls back, I clear my throat. “Do you think you could grab me a paper towel from the bathroom? I don’t really want to go back inside looking like this.”
There’s a split second of hesitation, but he glances at the handcuffs and seems to deem it acceptable. It might help that the bathroom is right across from us, but either way, he tells me to stay put and disappears behind the wooden door.
I consider it.
Staying put.
But then I think about what he said.
About how the men who hurt me are still roaming this earth.
Acting as if nothing ever happened.
So, I bolt.
Kick my heels off and head for the exit Preston went out of, trying not to cringe when Jonas’s shout reverberates down the hall.
As soon as my bare feet hit concrete, a large arm wraps around my waist and a hood comes down over my head, and then I don’t hear or see anything at all.
40
I don’t know why I run.
Even before I’ve made it out of the building, I know she’s gone.
Scouring the entire premises of the gallery, I search for her, my skull feeling like it’s been cleaved in two with each second I spend not finding her.
Eventually, I circle back around to the parking lot, beating my fist on the hood of a random Hyundai as I try to regulate my breathing. Panicking does me no good—in fact, all it does is cost me precious time.
I’m teetering, trying to determine whether she’s hiding or not, when my phone rings. Pulling it from my pocket, I don’t even bother checking the number, immediately barking “What?” into the receiver.
“My, my. You should really get that temper of yours checked out, Wolfe. It’d be such a shame if you succumbed to something as treatable as high blood pressure, leaving poor little Lenny bug to fend for herself on this planet.”
Rage simmers in my soul, spiraling outward until my insides are bleeding with it. “Preston.”
He cackles, the sound maniacal and harsh. My grip on the phone tightens, making my palm ache. “See, I know you said the deal was off, but I already had plans for her. Just had to wait long enough for you to fuck up, and I knew she’d come running.”
“Let me speak to her.”
“Mm, no can do, mate. We’re on a tight schedule.”
A muffled shriek comes over the line, and I recognize it immediately. Every muscle in my body turns to stone, torn between relief that she’s alive, and the horror of not knowing what he’s doing to her.
Presumably, his goal is to let his friends and colleagues finish what they started all those months ago. Pay for the privilege of fucking her.
“If you harm a single hair on her head—”
“Gonna do a bit more than harm them, my friend.” Shuffling comes over the line, and he grunts, a distinct smacking sound cracking in the air.
“Hurt her and you will regret it. This entire bloody island will.”
Preston hums, the sound grating against my nerves. “Well, you’ll have to find me, won’t you?”
Click.
Red splashes across my vision, and I throw the phone as the dial tone bleats out. It whips against a nearby truck, shattering before it falls to the ground.
“What the hell is going on?”
Alistair’s voice comes from behind me, and I whirl around, my hands already reaching for his neck. I stop at the last second, freezing in place as I realize we have an audience—Kal and Elena, and a portion of the catering staff stand in front of the building, watching us silently.