“And other mobsters.”
“Sure. The Italians, the Serbians—they’re not delicate like your little boyfriend. They’ve put away a body or two for me. Some… unsavory tenants.”
Horror grips me. “You mean… killed?”
“What are you, stupid? Of course I mean killed.” He grabs my chin, tilts it up. “Stupid little Mia. Always the last to catch up. Thank fuck you’ve got tits, huh?”
Killed.The one sin I thought he hadn’t committed. But of course he did. He just had other people do the dirty work for him.
I was so stupid. So fucking stupid to think there was a limit to what this man would or wouldn’t do.
If he hasn’t killed me, it’s only because he’s not done playing with me.
“W-We should…” I glance around the deserted parking lot in a panic. “We should move somewhere else. Somewhere more private.”
The second syringe full of sedatives is burning a hole in my pocket. As soon as Brad turns, I’ll drive it into his arm, and then this nightmare will be over.
As soon as?—
“No.”
I blink. “What do you mean, no?”
“I meanthis.”
Suddenly, he’s shoving me against a pillar. “Brad?—!”
“I’m tired of waiting.” He’s panting now, squeezing my hips with greedy hands. “You’ve been dangling it in my face for months. Now, I’m finally gonna take what’s mine.”
No. No, no, no.My stomach is roiling, sending waves of nausea through me.This can’t be happening.
I thought I was ready for this possibility. That I’d swallow my pride if that’s what it took to save Kallie and Eli. A small sacrifice to make.
But I was wrong. I’mnotready.
I don’t want this.
I—
“What?” Brad chuckles. “You’re struggling now? That’s cute. Adds a little flavor, for sure.”
“Let me go,” I growl. “Don’t?—”
“Oh, please. You’re not fooling anyone.” He pins my wrists with one hand, starts tracing the scars on my arm with the other. “In the end, you always let me do whatever I want. Remember these? I’d put out my smokes on you all the time. And you’d let me. You were so smitten, you’d fucking let me.”
“Stop,” I gasp. “Just—stop!”
“That’s when I knew.” He ignores me, keeps carrying on with his sick monologue as he shoves a knee between my thighs. “No amount of kicking and punching was going to cure you of me.”
“Th-that’s not true.”
“No?” He puts his hand on my belly. “You’ve been following the same script with the new boy toy. Shake your ass, get pregnant, get rich. Too bad it didn’t work this time either, huh?”
I can barely hear what he’s saying. Every motherly instinct in me is screaming, roaring with rage.
Don’t touch my daughter. Don’t you fucking dare.
“But you made a mistake.” His voice grows softer, almost indulgent. “You always make the same mistake, don’t you?”
