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Fuck!
Macen refused to sit by while the two people he loved more than life were destroyed in such a thoroughly callous, public way.
A strangled scream of frustration burned in his lungs.
Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath. Memories of sitting in a fucking cell for two and a half days came rushing back. He’d done nothing but crawl inside his own head, letting his fears and insecurities drag him down to the darkest recesses of his soul. You can protect them… A voice whispered between Hammer’s ears. He could also save himself from the slow, thirty-year slide to insanity if he were imprisoned.
But the cost was priceless in all the wrong ways.
Still, he’d made a vow that if Sterling couldn’t prove Macen’s innocence and the outcome of the trial seemed bleak, he would take his future into his own hands. He intended to keep that promise. He’d be damned before he let twelve clueless jurors decide his destiny.
But Sterling’s message only served to drive home the fact that things were already bleak. Hammer’s future was going up in flames and the fucking trial hadn’t even started.
Never in his worst nightmare had Hammer imagined he’d be pushed into a position like this. But he had—and he only had two ways out. That realization made his heart skip and every muscle tremble.
Panic swamped him. A wave of nausea crested. Cold sweat followed. Unable to breathe, he tossed back the covers and leapt out of bed.
Yeah, he’d heard Liam’s encouraging words about their future around the pool earlier and told himself his friend was right. He could still logically have hope.
Macen huffed. God, he sounded stupid, idealistic. Liam was a true friend, trying to prop him up, but Sterling had basically laid the truth out for him: thirty years. And if the feds didn’t get him, the state would. There was no escape.
Pacing, he dragged in deep breaths. It didn’t help. The walls were closing in all around him.
Grabbing the clothes he’d draped over the chair earlier, Hammer tried to quell his rising anxiety. His fingers shook as he buttoned his shirt.
Striding to the bed, he gazed down at the sleeping couple. Liam lay with his chest pressed to Raine’s back, one arm slung over her hip, his hand splayed open, shielding their unborn child. That was Liam’s way, a loving protector. Macen couldn’t have asked for a better friend.
Friend, nothing. The damn Irishman had instantly been more like a brother. Liam was laughter. Honesty. Compassion. Understanding. He was the benevolent pieces of humanity Macen lacked. The amazing bastard had still given him love and devotion even when Hammer hadn’t deserved it.
Emotions running high, he gazed at Raine. She looked peaceful, angelic. The lines of worry and fear that had been etched between her brows these past hellacious days had smoothed away. That’s exactly how Hammer wanted to remember her, too. God knew she deserved some blessed tranquility. She’d had to endure so much pain and trauma. The last thing she needed was to atone for his sins, to be weighed down by his humiliation and shame. He’d move heaven and earth to keep her from having to testify. He would fix the problem so she and Liam could live a normal life.
They deserved that and so much more.
Macen skimmed his stare over her lips. He’d waited and wasted years, aching to kiss the erotic bow of her mouth. When he finally had, she’d tasted like pure paradise, far sweeter and more potent than he’d imagined all that time.
Regret for the way things would end pierced his heart. He hadn’t even left the room and he already mourned the loss of her love.
Oh, god, how am I going to go through with this?
But he couldn’t wait any longer. If he was found guilty, they would lock him up and throw away the key. There would be no eleventh-hour pardons, just ten thousand nine hundred fifty days locked in a cage like a fucking animal. His life with Liam and Raine would be over.
What good was living when all he’d ever longed for was gone?
With an aching heart and a cyclone of emotions, Hammer plucked up the powers of attorney Liam and Raine had grudgingly signed earlier in the evening. Folding the pages that guaranteed their future, Hammer set them on his nightstand. Returning to the dresser, he removed his passport from the top drawer, then palmed his keys to keep them from jingling.
He stared at Liam and Raine one last time as his throat constricted and tears stung the backs of his eyes. Hammer branded the image of them both into his brain, then clenched his jaw. He walked out of the room and down the stairs.
Passing the kitchen, he paused. Visions of Raine, naked and splayed over the granite-topped island, split him in two. Closing his eyes, the scent of cinnamon melding with Raine’s feminine musk all but obliterated him.
