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“Brett,” I started, but stopped because he wouldn’t want to hear any of that. He wouldn’t say I was poison. Vicky wouldn’t say that. Howard. Lo. None of them. But I was, and how did I get them to understand?
How did I get Brett to understand?
“You have nieces.” I’d start there. My voice came out rasping. Weak.
His eyes snapped to slits. “What?”
My eyes closed. My head lowered. I had to try it this way. It was the only option. “You have two nieces and a nephew. You have a sister to fight. You have a brother whose relationship you need to build, and I know you want to build on it. I know it.” This felt right because it was right. Knowing that, feeling that, I looked back up. Strength pooled in my stomach, helping me hold his gaze steady as he was still skewering me.
“What the fuck does that have to do with you leaving me?”
God. My heart squeezed. He sounded so hurt by that. I shook my head, whispering, “It’s not like that.”
He was in front of me again, almost in the blink of an eye. One moment reading the letter by the table and the next, in my space. Breathing me in. His eyes still drilling into me, burning from my supposed abandonment of him, and that made whatever hold was on my heart, that made it even tighter. My lungs were hurting.
I was failing.
“Brett,” I choked out, reaching out to him. I was blind in that movement, just knowing I couldn’t take the pain that was searing me. It was too much. His hatred. His anger. All of that was mixing in with the very real panic to flee. Somehow Cameron Fowler had sent a copycat killer after me, and he or she or they were going to come after those I loved. And even if I didn’t know it, or fear it, it was too much of a risk for me to stay.
I had to go.
Why wasn’t he seeing that? “I have to, Brett.”
His eyes flashed, hotly. His mouth turned into a flat line. His face hardened. “Bullshit.”
“No. It’s not—”
Something in him snapped. I saw it, saw the flash in his eyes, before he leaned down to me, his mouth almost touching mine. His nose was centimeters from me, but he still had that letter in his hand, crumpling it in his fist. “You think anyone will be safe with you gone? That’s bullshit. If Fowler is behind this, or if there’s some other sick fuck behind this, they’ve been clocked in long before now. That means they already know us. They know Vicky. Howard. Lo. Roger. Your nieces.” He paused, just a fraction. “Maybe me. Probably me. They know.”
My heart was barely beating, it was being squeezed so hard. A death grip was on it.
His head stayed, but he moved his lower body against mine, and I felt him brushing against me. He wanted me, even during all this, he still wanted me. I leaned toward him without realizing it, my body needing the steadiness of his body against mine, his hands on me. His heat was driving me crazy, being so close, but not closing all the way.
Brett’s hand cupped the back of my neck, holding it in an iron grip.
I blinked, staring up at him.
He was taking me in, his gaze scanning every single inch of my face before coming back to my eyes. His eyes, God. They were almost glittering from whatever emotion he was feeling right now. “You run, and this psycho will use anyone you love against you. He’ll take one of your nieces. He’ll let it become a big spectacle and then he’ll use her as bait to draw you back into his trap. You run and you guarantee someone you love will die.” His hand tightened on my neck. “Don’t run, Billie.”
There was a final click at his last words. Everything that I had let loose, ready to go, all of it was yanked back inside me, and hearing him, realizing he was right, the last seal was poured over my heart. He was right. I couldn’t go. This killer had already been planning, long before me.
He already knew who I loved.
“Brett,” I cried out, sheer terror starting to claw at me.
An icy hand was making its way up inside me, and I couldn’t stop it. Every inch of me was freezing in place, the understanding that I might’ve insured the death of one of my nieces—Brett growled, his hand flexing before his mouth dropped to mine.
The fire from him surged in me, battling against that coldness, and I gasped under the onslaught of the battle happening inside me. Brett took advantage, his tongue slipping in, and he was taking over. He wasn’t letting me feel what was happening in me. It was all him. Only him.
His hand grabbed my hair, twisting it, and he yanked my head back.
A cry came out from me, but he swallowed it whole, his mouth chasing me and not giving up control.
I was under his command. Whatever he wanted, I would give. I would want to give it. Needlessly. Seamlessly. Blindly. But then the fire from him won and desperate need reared out of me.
I needed him.
I needed him now.
