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I didn’t doubt he was capable of it. I’d planned for it, but I wasn’t prepared for his superhuman strength. The darkness in his eyes proved there was no reasoning with the devil. He was my worst nightmare, reincarnated.
“Get off me, motherfucker,” I rasped as I fought him, kicking and clawing with every ounce of strength I could muster. He wasn’t relenting, and I’d run out of options. My fingers clamored around in my jacket pocket, frantically trying to get a grip on the pepper spray I carried. The Taser was in my purse, but there was no way I’d get to it in time. Already, blackness threatened the edges of my vision.
With what felt like my last breath, I secured the canister in my hand and yanked it up toward his face, pulling the trigger.
“Fuckkkkk!” Joe released his grip on my throat as the torrent of liquid annihilated his eyes.
White-hot pain pierced my lungs as I dragged in my first free breath and shoved him away, bolting for the door. But just as I turned the knob, fingers twisted in my hair and wrenched my head back. My heeled shoe flew back into his shin, and he collapsed to his knees.
“Fucking bitch!”
“That’s right.” I jerked the door open and turned to face him one last time. My hands trembled as I fished the damning photos of him from my purse, tossing them onto the floor. “I’m not a little girl anymore. So fuck you, Joe. Come near me again, and I will ruin you.”
I folded the last of the baby blankets, tucking them into the diaper bag before glancing around the hospital room to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Gypsy was already in the wheelchair, my nephew securely tucked into her arms as Lucian stood behind them. His face was a mixture of awe and disbelief, and admittedly, I found it difficult to look away from them.
When he stormed into our lives a little over a year ago and strong-armed my sister into a deal through means of blackmail, I hated him. I swore I would hate him until the day he died. But looking at them now, everything had changed. Gypsy was softer. She’d become a mother and a wife. Two things I never thought I’d see. Her days of conning were far behind her, and I didn’t know exactly where that left me.
As part of the negotiations, Gypsy begged me to leave Las Vegas. She wanted me to move somewhere safe and go to school and make a better life for myself. But she had no idea Joe had crash-landed back into our lives. I ensured she remained blissfully unaware of the evidence that could unravel us because I didn’t want her to worry. But the worry never left her eyes when I was around.
All day, she’d watched me as I fussed over her. She smiled, but it was sad. Her concern for me was well founded, even if I didn’t want to admit it. Our past wasn’t pretty, and it had finally caught up with us. But mostly, it had caught up with me. I didn’t want to drag her back into the nightmare she’d fought so hard to protect me from. She deserved to be happy. She’d taken care of me, and now it was my turn to take care of her.
I kneeled to stroke my nephew’s cheek and then took Gypsy’s hand in mine. “I’m proud of you, Gyps. You know that? You’re going to be an amazing mother, just like you always were to me.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she looked so wracked with guilt, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “Don’t say that, B. I should have done a lot of things differently.”
“No, there weren’t,” I argued. “You did the best you could. You did more than anyone else would have. And you don’t need to worry about me anymore, all right? Everything’s going to be okay.”
She pulled me in for an emotional hug I chalked up to hormones. She’d just given birth, and the last year hadn’t been easy. It had been more than any one person should bear. But she managed it with dignity and grace, just as she always had.
“Ace is going to give you a ride back,” she choked out the words. “Okay?”
I nodded, tossing a glance at the brooding biker lurking near the doorframe. The man who took me hostage at the Venetian hadn’t changed much. He was still decked out in his jeans, boots, and a flannel cut off beneath his leather vest. His beard was a little longer, maybe, but everything else was the same. Including the fact that whenever I looked at him, a million tiny fireflies lit up my belly.
I didn’t know why, because he was never happy to see me. Ace looked at me like I was a math problem he couldn’t quite figure out. I was lucky to get a grunted response, if he responded to me at all. He was aloof at the best of times and surly at the worst. I didn’t think he’d had a day of fun in his whole life, and I wondered why. There were so many questions I had about him, but I never voiced them. It was better that way. The smartest thing I could do was squash my curiosity deep down inside and ignore it. The last thing I needed was to get tangled up with emotions I didn’t understand.
