AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I can’t close my eyes without seeing his face,’ I confessed. I felt guilty that I was even talking to him about Este, when it had been his father’s men who had gunned him down in the first place. ‘It was so unnecessary, you know? They didn’t need to shoot him. They didn’t need to hurt him at all. He was just in the way, so they killed him.’
I was disgusted with myself. Este had bled to death before me only a week ago, and now I was kissing a strange man in a darkened hallway?
‘And now I’m here with you and I just . . . kissed you, and he’s probably still laying in a morgue somewhere in the cold.’ I cried. I cried so hard, I could barely breathe, picturing my dead lover zipped into a bodybag and stacked in a fridge. He didn’t deserve that. Nobody did. He had been killed because he loved me.
‘Don’t feel bad,’ Dornan said. ‘I kissed you darlin’, remember? He’s not gonna haunt you for that.’
I thought about that for a few moments. Maybe he was right.
‘Nobody’d blame you for trying to survive. It’s the smart thing to do.’
‘Is that all it was?’ I asked. ‘Just the smart thing to do?’
It hadn’t felt smart, the way I had responded to him. The way I had been disappointed when he’d pulled away.
‘For you, maybe,’ he said, that amused glint back in his eye. ‘For me . . . I think that was the opposite of smart.’
‘So why’d you do it then?’ I asked boldly.
He laughed, the sound light and innocent, in complete contrast to his fierce demeanour. It floated away on the waves as the tide pulled out from the shore, and all too soon, it was quiet again.
He turned to me, his head cocked to the side slightly. ‘I have no idea,’ he said. He reached out, running his fingers along my arm. ‘You’re cold.’
I leaned into his touch for a fraction of a second, but guilt and revulsion tore me apart again. It was exhausting, this see-saw of emotions.
‘Isn’t your wife waiting for you?’ I asked, shrugging my arm away.
His smile vanished. He let his hand fall away from me slowly. ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘She knows better by now.’
He gestured for me to step back inside, locking the door with a key as I moved past him into the apartment.
He looked down at the long black dress I was still wearing. My auction costume.
‘I’m gonna burn that fucking dress the next time I’m here,’ he said vehemently.
He turned to leave.
‘Wait,’ I said, suddenly terrified at the thought of being alone. ‘When are you coming back?’
He scooped up his helmet and walked down the hallway to the keypad by the door, punching in a combination of numbers. ‘When my wife lets me out of the house,’ he threw over his shoulder, slamming the door shut behind him.
And then, just like that, he was gone, my lips still burning from where he had kissed me. I held my fingers to my mouth, and felt them tremble.
CHAPTER THIRTY
DORNAN
Goddamn it. God fucking damn it! She had him wrapped around her little finger, and he was panting like a fuckin’ dog in heat around her.
Better to put some distance between them for now, let her start to appreciate the situation for what it was. The situation where he’d hauled her ass out of Dodge and planted her in some sweet digs after having known her just a matter of days.
Despite what he’d said, he wasn’t going home. Celia had been giving him the shits lately, probably had her damn period, and he steered clear of her when that happened. Besides, the woman wasn’t stupid. She knew what Dornan was like. He liked to think they had an unspoken understanding. She got to live in the nice house and spend his money, and he got to go out and do whatever the fuck he wanted, whatever pretty little opportunities the Gypsy Brotherhood brought to him.
He rode fast again, but not too fast. This close to LA, he didn’t want to pick up any undue attention. He had the local sheriff in his top pocket, but it never hurt to play along and act like a law-abiding citizen to keep things flowing smoothly.
When he parked his bike and entered the Gypsy Brothers clubhouse, it was after midnight. It’d been a long day, a tedious day of hostage negotiations, and he really wanted something to take the pain away.
There was music playing, and he walked down the hallway and into the main area of the clubhouse with the swagger of a man who owned the place. He wanted to forget about Mariana Rodriguez for a couple of hours. The stress of her existence, of having vouched for her with his father, was wearing at his nerves. The distinct possibility that she might make him look like a fool burrowed into his thoughts and remained there, taunting him. He needed a distraction, and fast.
