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Now, to start getting some answers from my bride-to-be. It was going to be an interesting ride home…
Not aquamarine or turquoise—theflawless stone on my hand was a rich deep blue.
The exact shade of Conner’s eyes.
That way, you don’t forget who you belong to.
As I sat in his car an hour later, his words replayed in my mind, my eyes glued to the ring. It was no accident that the stone he’d chosen for me looked like it had been harvested from the same material as his striking irises.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
In some respects, the gesture felt personal. Intimate. Had a longtime boyfriend put such thought into a ring, I would have swooned at the romantic nature of his choice. A piece of him with me always. But that wasn’t our situation. Was there any chance he could actually have feelings for me, or was I just another acquisition, and the ring his brand?
I rubbed at the strange ache that rippled through my chest.
“How often?” His quiet voice was liquid chocolate laced with arsenic.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“How often does he lay his hands on you?”
Of course. I’d known this was coming when Keir had told me Conner was taking me home, but the ring had distracted me. An eight-carat gemstone did that to a girl.
I took in a slow, cleansing breath. “He never used to bother with me,” I explained, knowing I had to give him something. “After Mom’s death, things changed. It’s not all that bad. He just gets angry easily.”
Conner kept his eyes on the road, but his fury was evident by his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. “He do that shit to your mother?”
Again, that ache burned in my chest.
“If he did, I never witnessed it. I’ve wondered the same thing so many times, but I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure.”
“Your brother let him do that to you?”
My head whipped to the side, eyes wide. “No! Of course not. Sante has no idea. Don’t you dare blame him.”
Conner cut his eyes to me, a silent warning that he’d blame whoever he damn well wanted to. I huffed back in my seat and parted my lips in retort but never got the chance. The car suddenly lurched to the side, my upper body slamming against the door.
Conner barked out a murderous curse, clutching the wheel tightly to try to correct our trajectory.
“What was that?” I cried, trying to see what we’d hit.
“Face forward, Em. Head down,” he ordered. “Someone’s got a fucking death wish.” He growled the last part, eyes cutting to the rearview mirror.
Again, the car behind us swiped at our back end, sending Conner’s BMW fishtailing to the side. The Byrnes lived just outside the city in one of the few areas with trees and hilly, curving roads. A couple more miles, and we would be back on the interstate, but I wasn’t sure we’d make it that long.
An icy river of fear rushed beneath the surface of my skin. When a loud shot rang in my ears, my racing heart skipped a whole handful of beats.
Nothing happened for a second. It was enough time for confusion to settle in before the back of the car vibrated and bounced, warning of a flat tire.
“Motherfucker,” Conner spat, gripping the wheel of the suddenly unwieldy car. They’d shot out one of our tires. We’d been speeding to get away from our pursuers and were now on the verge of total chaos.
Memories of flying past cars and my mother’s frantic cries assaulted me. The sight of broken glass and pooling blood—metal bent and contorted as steam and smoke filled the air.
Terror wound tight with heartbreak to blur my vision and catapult my pulse to dangerous levels.
“Mama,” I cried. “No, Mama.”
An arm slammed against my chest right before my body jolted from side to side. Tires screeched in my ears, almost drowning out the stream of masculine curses.
