I hyperventilate, my breaths short and sharp as relief pummels me.
I hate him. But I hate even more that I love that he’s here.
“If they find you, you’re done,” he whispers in my ear. “Do you understand?”
I nod, grateful and angry. Panicked and indebted. Hurting and so goddamn confused.
“Good.” His palm falls from my mouth. “We need to get you out of here.”
I turn to face him, retreating a step. “Cole’s coming to get me.”
“He’s not here now, though, and my brothers are right outside your door.” He grabs my wrist and drags me toward the bathroom. “Come on. The car’s in the alley.”
I attempt to pull my arm free, but he tightens his hold.
“Don’t test me, amore mio.” The endearment is growled. “My patience is dead.”
“Please give me your phone.” I implore him, no longer capable of fighting. “Let me call and see where he is.”
“In the car.”
I pause, barely recognizing him through the aggression. Sweat beads along his brow. His eyes are wild. And that hold of his is restrictive—tight and confounding, like he refuses to release the tether holding us together.
I shake my head, wishing I could depend on him but knowing I can’t.
“You’d prefer to take your chances wasting time in here than trust me to save you?” He inches closer, his brows furrowing. “Do you hate me that much?”
My heart says no.
My head disagrees.
“Let me call him. It won’t take long.”
“I’ll throw you over my shoulder, Layla. You know I will. Stop using my mistakes as an excuse to risk your life. You’re smarter than that.” He releases me, his chin rising at the loss of contact. “I’ll make sure you see Cole, okay? I’ve already spoken to him once today. Your sister, too.”
I flinch in confusion. “How? Why?”
“I knew you had no way of getting home.”
I swallow, hating how useless and predictable I’ve become. “He knows what you did,” I whisper. “And who you are.”
“He told me as much.”
“He’ll kill you,” I add, gaining face the only way I know how.
“Yeah, he made that clear, too.”
“Can we get the fuck out of here?” Bishop mutters from the alley. “Save the foreplay for later.”
I scowl at the interruption. At the bullshit Bishop always provides.
“Look.” Matthew raises his hands in surrender. “I understand your hatred.”
“No, you don’t.” He couldn’t comprehend how my father did the exact same thing to me. How I was led to believe I was adored when I wasn’t. That I was appreciated when instead I’d only been used.
“If I’d known about your connection with Emmanuel, I never would’ve—”
“Deceived me for every minute we were together?” I accuse. “You knew I deserved to be told they were your family.”
“And you would’ve run.”
“Exactly.” I rub my wrist where his hand had just been, soothing the tingling skin. “If I’d been aware, I never would’ve been with you.”
“What about the things I should’ve been aware of?” He grates through clenched teeth. “You didn’t do me the courtesy of telling me I was fucking my way back into the underworld. I had to find out—”
A pounding knock sounds at a nearby room.
I freeze. Matthew straightens.
“Housekeeping,” Remy shouts.
“They’re going door to door,” Bishop snarls. “Yet again, we don’t have fucking time for this.”
Where the hell is Cole?
He should’ve been here by now.
“I’ll fight to the death to stop them from taking you.” Matthew leans closer, his commanding face an inch from mine. “But I’m unarmed and Bishop’s outnumbered. Do you despise me enough to risk them taking you back to Emmanuel?”
I wish I knew.
“Come on, amore mio.” He reaches out. “Be smart about this. Do what’s best for Stella.”
I hate how he wields my daughter like a weapon even though his argument is valid.
“You’ll take me to Cole?” I ask.
“You’ll see him as soon as he arrives. I promise.”
He holds out a hand as another booming knock sounds, this time closer.
I’m running out of time. Out of options, too.
“Okay.” I ignore his offering and nod. “I’ll go with you, but once I find Cole, I never want to see you again.”
40
Matthew
I help Layla into the back of the Lincoln then climb into shotgun while Bishop takes the wheel.
She’s safe for now. At least from herself. She can’t escape again with the child lock on both doors. But my threat toward her is a different matter.
I want to throttle her. To shake and scold until she understands exactly how stupid it was to run from me.
“Ready?” Bishop shifts into drive. “I don’t think we’re going to leave the alley without being seen.”
I know, and I have no clue what Salvo will do about it. Give chase? Give up? Who fucking knows with that asshole.
“Slam your foot down and don’t stop until you lose him.” I glance to Layla in the back seat. “Put your seatbelt on.”
She does as instructed, her frantic eyes meeting mine. “What about the phone call?”
“Later.”
“Later? That wasn’t the deal.”
“We’re kinda busy here, amore mio.” I turn my attention to the side mirror as Bishop inches forward, my focus on the closed window we climbed out of more than a few yards back. “If we’re lucky, Salvatore and Remy will be searching one of the hotel rooms when we pass.”
They know she’s around here somewhere. In this suburb. Abri told me as much after the city search failed and I was forced to bribe my own damn sister.
“Evidently, we’re shit out of luck.” Bishop rolls the Lincoln to a stop.
“Why?” I raise my gaze to the alley, my pulse kicking at the sleek town car slowly approaching to block our exit.
“Want me to blow this pop stand in reverse?”
“That’s Cole.” Layla releases her belt and tugs at the door handle only to have it deny her freedom. “Let me out.”
“I need to speak with him first.” I shoot Bishop a hard look and shove from the car. “Keep her inside until I return and make sure you watch the back of those hotel rooms.”
“No, take me with you,” she demands. “He’ll kill you.”
I ignore her, unsure if her intent is to intimidate or warn, and close the door behind me to stride ahead. She shouts for me to stop, the muted calls trapped behind closed windows and smothered by heavy traffic, but her suffering punishes me all the same.
I’m sure I’ve got nothing to worry about, though.
Cole is smart enough to pause his trigger finger when his sister is still trapped in my car. I’m banking my fucking life on it as I continue forward, the two men seated in the car before me glowering, the driver lacking subtlety when he casually rests his gun on top of the steering wheel.