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And then he turns on me.
“Come here.” He holds out his hand. “Ava, now.”
I inch over to him, watching his hand move because it’s better than staring into the face of the brawler that just beat the shit out of a guy for touching me.
It’s dotted with blood. At first, I think it’s the guy on the floor’s blood, until Link gets antsy, flexing his fingers, gesturing for me to go to him and I see that his knuckles are split from the force of his hits. Some of the blood is his, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
I do, however, go to put my hand in his.
I wasn’t thinking. Still shocked by the brutality Link just showed off, I definitely wasn’t thinking as I offer him mylefthand.
Link snatches it, spreading my fingers apart so that it’s obvious he’s focusing on the fourth one.
His head snaps up, eyes locking on mine. “Where is it, Ava?”
He looks so angry, the words catch in my throat.
Thrusting my hand down, breaking the connection, Link looms in front of me. “You’re my wife. You’remine. That ring proves it, and you took it off?”
“It fell off,” I begin at last, trying to defend myself.
Link isn’t having it. “You took it off, then you let some random fucker touch you.”
Lethim? “I was trying to get away—”
“You shouldn’t have been here in the first place. You don’t belong here, Ava,” he tells me. No shit. His dark eyes are blazing at me, jaw clenched as he spits out, “If I wanted a whore for a wife, I would’ve married any of the waitresses Royce tried to hook me up with.”
I go up on my tiptoes, going nose to nose with Link. “Maybe you should have.”
He purses his lips. From the fury inherent in every line of his face, I know he’s dying to continue our argument, and the old Link would have.
But this isn't the old Link I used to know. It isn’tmyLink.
This is the Devil of Springfield, and when his voice goes icy cold, sending shivers up and down my spine, I remember that as he says, “We’ll discuss this later, pet.”
I open my mouth. Link shakes out his hand, turning away from me. “Chance.”
A guy materializes from out of the crowd. He’s a tall dark-haired guy in his late twenties, give or take thanks to his baby face, and hero worship in his big brown eyes as he steps in front of Link.
“Yes, boss?”
“Bring my wife back to the penthouse.” He pauses for a moment, and though I can’t see his face, I can only imagine the expression on it. “And don’t let her leave again.”
“Link—”
Without turning around, he walks away from me.
I almost follow him. The last time I let him go like that, that was the end of us. I don’t know what kind of ‘us’ we have now, but he seems determined to keep me—
“Come with me, Mrs. Crewes,” Chance says. “I’ll get you back to the boss’s house.”
—as a prisoner, just like I thought.
TWELVE
PERMANENT RING
AVA
