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He shuddered and dropped his gaze. “It seems I don’t have a choice,” he gritted out.
“You don’t,” I confirmed. “Stop the car. We’re done here.”
I holstered my gun as he asked the driver to stop. As soon as we stopped moving, I got out, shooting one final glower at Fitzgerald before I shut the door between us. The limo pulled away, and I stared after it.
It was done. My victory was complete. I could go to my father now and tell him I’d finished my mission. Everything I’d ever wanted would be mine: power, respect, prestige.
None of it meant anything without Allie. I’d lost the only thing that truly mattered, and I didn’t think I’d ever get her back. Not now that she finally believed the terrible truth about me.
I’d wanted to be better for her, but I couldn’t change what I was: a monster with blood on my hands and hatred in my heart.
CHAPTER 12
Allie
Exhaustion pressed down on my shoulders, and my heart was heavy in my chest. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and welcome the oblivion of sleep, but I was too scared of the nightmares that would assail me as soon as I closed my eyes.
I blinked hard to clear away the horrific vision of Max’s crimson-coated hands and the gory hole in his cousin’s chest. I knew he’d done it to save me, but the violence had shaken me to my core. All my life, I’d been sheltered from the horrors of organized crime, even though my father was neck-deep in it. Faced with the bloody reality, my soul was screaming.
I knocked back my wine glass and swallowed the last gulp of pinot noir. If I couldn’t find comfort in peaceful sleep, I would welcome the numbness of alcohol. I waved down the waiter and ordered another glass of wine.
Isabel eyed me warily. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, babe. You’ve already had four. You never drink this much.”
Davis shushed her, brows drawn low over his sea green eyes. “Allie nearly burned to death yesterday. Let her do what she wants.”
I swallowed a moan at the memory of the flames, of waking up in the fresh air to find the miracle of Max holding me. I’d thought I would die in that fire.
“Davis,” Charlie admonished in her soft Southern drawl. “She already said she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
A flash of light to my right snagged my attention, and my stomach dropped when I saw the man holding up his phone and pointing the camera in my direction. It was the same guy who’d snapped pics of me in our favorite wine bar over a week ago. Before Max had materialized out of the shadows and scared him away.
Davis shoved out of his chair and stormed toward the man, his square jaw sharp with fury. “Hey, asshole,” he barked. “Stop taking pictures of my friend, you creep.”
The bald man held up his hands. “She’s all over the news. I just want my followers to know she’s safe after that fire.” He tried for a smile, but Davis wasn’t having it.
My friend got right in the man’s face, despite the fact that he was a few inches shorter. He was fierce in his defense of me. “That’s none of your fucking business. Get out, or I’ll make you.”
The bouncer appeared at their side, crossing his thick arms over his chest and staring both men down. “What’s going on here?”
Isabel was instantly on her feet, going to Davis to place a restraining hand on his shoulder. “This creep is taking pictures of my friend,” she accused. “It’s the second time he’s harassed her like this. He shouldn’t be here.”
The burly man raised a brow at the bald guy. “Is that true?”
“She’s Alexandra Fitzgerald,” he said with a broad sweep of his hand in my direction, as though my minor celebrity excused his behavior.
“And you thought it was a good idea to harass the mayor’s daughter?” the bouncer asked, eyes glinting. “Get out. I don’t want to see you in here again.”
I watched the man leave. He shot one nasty glare in my direction, but it didn’t make me squirm with discomfort and embarrassment like it usually would. I just felt…empty. Too many awful things had happened within the last thirty-six hours for me to care about some guy taking pictures of me.
“You okay, hon?” Charlie asked, placing a hand over my fist.
“Yeah,” I lied hollowly.
Davis returned to our table and pulled me close for a reassuring hug. “Of course she’s not okay. That was total bullshit. After everything that’s happened, the last thing she needs is some asshole creeping on her.”
My fifth glass of pinot arrived, and I took a long draw of the rich wine.
“Come on, Allie,” Isabel cajoled. “We should go back to Davis’ place. It’s getting late, and we don’t need to drink anymore.”
