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“Those supposed guitar slingers are my friends.” She lifted her chin. “My family.”
“As is Ryan. Come now, you don’t have to lie to me.” Marco pushed off the wall and came closer, his expensive shoes whispering over the carpeted floor. “You care for him deeply. I’ve seen enough evidence of that.”
“You’ve been watching me. Us. For how long?” She swallowed over the dryness in her throat as her phone vibrated. It had to be Ryan. She should have been downstairs with him and the band.
She should have told him everything. She was so tired of being afraid.
But when she’d gotten through this mess, she would. When he was safe. And then she’d make all the promises to Ryan she should have before she’d let him walk out that door.
She’d never lie to him or hold back pieces of the truth—or herself—again.
“How many days has it been since you vanished on me after you wrote me that pathetic Dear John letter?” Marco didn’t touch her, just loomed close enough to make her gut twist from his nearness. “That’s how long.”
Her face heated with fury. “You didn’t follow me all this time. I know it. I went off-grid, changed my fucking name, learned every goddamn back road I could so you’d never be able to hem me in again.”
“Yet here we are. You put up a good effort, I’ll say that. But once you returned to your felonious uncle’s playground, tracking you was painfully easy. Add in your new boyfriend’s penchant for high-stakes poker in one of my clubs, and well, it only takes one time to have him roughed up and left in an alley for you to find. Counting cards is such a bad habit. You should have suggested he stop that.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “You have your ways of being persuasive. I heard you using them on him just last night.”
She closed her eyes. She didn’t know if he was lying or exaggerating or if he’d really been that close all this time. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. He’d invaded their privacy, time and time again. Where and when didn’t really make a difference.
His violation of her hadn’t stopped when she’d turned her back on him and his lifestyle. He’d kept right on doing it in all new ways. Not that she’d even left him because of his controlling ways and mental cruelty. She’d left because she’d seen him order another man injured, possibly critically, for a minor infraction. Because she’d seen him participate.
Hurting her had been okay. Hurting someone else had been way too much. And she’d known it hadn’t been the first time. Nor would it be the last.
But it wouldn’t be Ryan. Ever. Not if she could fix this.
If she wasn’t too late.
“It’s sweet how he has that picture of you in his wallet tucked behind his license,” Marco went on, probably reading her silence as fear.
That wasn’t far from the truth. It just wasn’t all she was feeling, not by a long shot.
“The one with his arm around your neck while he’s kissing your hair.” He stroked a finger down the side of her face. “Too bad you’re already spoken for. Too bad for him all the way around.”
“If I go with you, you’ll leave him alone.” She raised her face to his. “He’s a boy, Marco. You understand that. Not worthy of your time and energy. He was a diversion while I was driving the bus.” She shrugged, loathing every word, her body physically rejecting them until she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t throw up on Marco’s fancy Italian loafers. “No more, no less.”
“If you go with me, you’ll forget him soon enough. I told you I’d never let you leave me. That I wouldn’t be content if you weren’t by my side. Now we can resume what we had.” He smiled and touched her hair. “Our forever love.”
She nearly retched. Christ, if she could go back in time, she would smack her nineteen-year-old self unconscious for ever having a thing to do with this man. For ignoring her gut that said something was off about him. For not going to her uncle sooner to get help.
But this time, she would help herself. And Ryan.
They were going to have a future together, dammit. Maybe even one with a picket fence and some kids and joint electric bills.
“Promise me, Marco. If we leave together, you’ll pull your men off of keeping tabs on Ryan. I won’t try to contact him again.”
Marco angled his head, studying her for so long that she was sure he was about to call her bluff again. “You know I’d do anything for you. Even spare him.”
She reeled from that statement, from the bald honesty in it. She would never trust Marco’s promises again, but he truly believed he held Ryan’s fate in his hands.
Not if she had anything to say about it. Somehow she would make sure Marco and his bastards didn’t have a chance to get near him.
Her dress vibrated again and she had to bite back a sob. She would risk everything to keep Ryan safe. In a heartbeat.
“Let’s go in the hotel room now, Casey.” Marco gripped her elbow and shifted her toward the room. She dug her feet into the carpet out of reflex, but he just yanked her forward as if she were insubstantial. “You have a letter to write to Ryan to say goodbye.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ryan stared at the photo in his wallet as he leaned against the back wall of the elevator traveling upstairs. He was still amazed it hadn’t been thrown out by the jerks who’d ransacked his wallet. But nope, it had remained safely tucked behind his license with the condom. They must’ve just overlooked it.
