Maybe a part of me hoped she wouldn’t turn her back on me once she found out who I was. That despite calling me by a new name, she’d still look at me and see the man she’d been dating for the last few weeks.
That was wishful thinking.
Did I really expect her to be okay with all the lies I told her? Did I really think she’d forgive me for starting that fire?
I can’t blame her for wanting to get as far away from me as possible right now, but that just isn’t an option.
We’re tied together now. For life.
However short that might be given what’s waiting for me.
I blow out a breath.
There’s a selfishly possessive part of me that likes seeing that ring on her finger, but I know I’d like it a hell of a lot more if I hadn’t had to force her into this.
Instead of tears of joy on her wedding day, she fought back tears of sorrow. She deserved to stand at the altar in a stunning dress, not in worn-out clothes with a bruise marring her cheek.
I stole that possibility from her. Just like I stole so many other things.
She’s probably relieved to know our marriage has a rapidly approaching expiration date.
Maybe after the Ferraros take care of me, she’ll find a way to be happy again.
The elderly receptionist at the check-in desk doesn’t ask many questions before handing me a key. “Check-out is at eleven.”
“Thanks.” I grab the key and walk back out.
We can’t stay here for long. Eight hours, and then we’ve got to be back on the road. I need to be back in New York before Gino decides to act on the information that I’m alive.
Worst-case scenario, he puts me on the Menu. That means every made man who wants to earn a quick buck would have an incentive to hunt me down.
I can’t allow Blake to get caught up in that.
I’ve got to get ahead of this fucking thing.
The sooner I make it back to Rafe, the sooner I can get his commitment to protect Blake, no matter what happens to me.
My boots crunch against loose stones as I walk back to the truck. Blake watches me approach through the windshield, her skin pale and her eyes haunted.
A wave of rage sweeps through me. If I could, I’d kill her godfather again for hurting her. And I’d take my fucking time.
I unlock the door, cut the zip tie, and take her hand. As soon as she hops out of the truck, she makes a half-hearted effort topull it out of my grip, but I keep a firm hold. “No more running. You’ve hurt yourself enough.”
She stares at me with red-rimmed eyes, and seeing her so beaten, hurt, and broken feels like hell on earth.
Fuck. Gino Ferraro will be doing me a favor. I deserve to die for what I did to her.
But that can’t happen yet.
I grab the plastic bags with the supplies and lead her to our room.
Inside, it’s nothing special. The kind of place that fades from memory as soon as you leave. There’s a queen bed, two worn nightstands, and an old armchair slumping in the corner by the south-facing window. I lock the door behind me, deadbolt it, and walk over to the window to test how far it opens—just an inch.
Good.
“I’m not sharing that bed with you,” Blake mutters quietly.
“I know.” If it was up to her, no doubt we wouldn’t even be sharing this room. I can tell she doesn’t feel safe around me, and that fucking hurts.
