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My blood ran icy cold at the sound of Stephen’s voice. I glanced up at Tank. But his back was to me as he began cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them.
“If you raise the alarm that I’ve called,” Stephen said. “It will make me mad and you don’t want to do that, Alexandra.”
I gritted my teeth. Slowly, I forced myself to slide off the stool. As Tank reached for the red peppers, his gaze flicked up to me. I gestured to the phone and pointed out of the room.
Tank nodded and I walked into my room without any problem. After I’d closed the door, I spoke.
“What the fuck do you want?” I hissed.
“Your motorcycle mutts are breathing down my neck and it’s a damn inconvenience. Call them off.”
“Why? So you can get a clear shot next time? Put a bullet in my brain easy peasy? No thanks.”
Stephen growled with frustration.
“You weren’t the target. Your biker boyfriend was.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “Leave Brewer alone.”
“He’s in my way. And he humiliated me. I’ll do whatever I damn well please with him.”
This was worse. Much worse. If Stephen had simply been coming after me, that would be enough to worry about. But now, he had a vendetta against Brewer, too.
“You know how to make this right, Alexandra,” Stephen continued.
My skin crawled at the slickness of his voice. Whatever he would propose next, I knew I wouldn’t like it.
“I’m not the one who hired a goddamn shooter,” I snapped back. “All you have to do is walk away. Leave Merry Field right now. Brewer won’t come after you. Let me go, Stephen. This doesn’t have to get any bloodier.”
Stephen was silent for several long seconds. I held my breath, willing him to speak. Would he finally give in? Would he throw in the towel and leave this whole mess behind?
“I’m disappointed in you, Alexandra,” he said at last, and my heart sank. “You were a visionary when I met you – dreaming about visiting the world, craving a better life for yourself than that ant hill of Merry Field could ever offer you. And I was ready to give you everything. I was ready to make you mywife.”
I sighed. I couldn’t believe I had wanted that. But I’d been naïve, gullible, guzzling Stephen’s charm and smooth ways. And money. Growing up in a trailer park, living off food stamps, with parents who were never home…I always dreamed that money would be the answer to escape my troubled life. Instead, I ran into the arms of a predator in a business suit and a gold watch.
“We wouldn’t be good together, Stephen,” I said.
“But you’re good with that biker?”
“His name is Brewer.”
“I don’t give afuckwhat his name is,” Stephen spat. “You belong to me. Not him.”
“No, Stephen,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice measured. “I don’t.”
He growled and something shattered on the other end of the line. I flinched, fighting to keep myself from trembling at his anger. He couldn’t get to me here. I was safe, in Tank’s apartment.
When Stephen spoke again, his voice was eerily calm after being near the brink of a tirade two seconds ago.
“I hear he’s out of the hospital now. And he’s been busy tracking down the gun I hired to take him out.”
I bit my tongue until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. Brewer hadn’t told me that. And I hated the realization that Stephen knew more about Brewer’s whereabouts than I did.
“What will it take to get you to stand down, Stephen?” I asked.
“Not over the phone. I want to talk in person.”
Shit. I tipped my head back to look at he ceiling. I should have known he would pull something like this.
