“I don’t blame her.” My God. I slump against the leather seat. Should I consider running away? Well, not exactly running because I’ll die of exhaustion in about twenty feet, but I should try to escape these men. I would have to leave Selnoa.
But my daughter lives here, as well as my dad. Selnoa is all I’ve known.
How did my life get so fucked?
I’m not sure how much more I can take before I reach the breaking point. First, I found out Sergei cheated on me. I ended a long friendship and broke up with him. At least I had my apartment. Now I don’t have a roof over my head anymore. I’m a fugitive, though Martin said they released me, probably to save face.
And, oh, my business is about to tank because my clients will go elsewhere to get their hair done. During the time I spent in detention, I wasn’t making money at my hair salon. Rent is due on the first of every month. My landlord doesn’t care about my life unless it affects the rent.
I could do house calls. Like the house call I made to the client who stayed at the Crossbow mansion that one fateful day when I ran over Declan Crossbow. What are the odds?
“Of what?” Declan asks.
“Excuse me?”
“You asked what the odds are.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. Suddenly, I’m aware of how clean and put-together he looks in his tailored suit and how those pants fit his long legs.
I haven’t bathed in three days. My hair is greasy, and I probably smell. Gross.
Declan repeats. “Of what?”
“I was mentally recounting the string of bad luck that I’ve had since divorcing Sergei and meeting you.”
“You’re not divorced yet,” Connor says.
“Thank you for reminding me a woman can’t divorce a man fast enough because of the bottlenecked old laws that work against women when it comes to marriage. Luckily for me, I consider myself divorced.” I shrug as if I’m indifferent, but I’m not.
Declan opens the compartment under the seat and pulls out a sweater. He hands it to me. “Put this on.”
I accept the sweater, but when I go to put it on, I frown. “Is this a bulletproof vest?”
“Mmhm.” He removes his suit jacket and the crisp white shirt underneath to reveal a toned upper body covered in tattoos of different objects and shapes all put together like puzzle pieces to create one massive tattoo of a skull and crossbones.
Now I’m even more aware of my ragged appearance, even my age and my body. Throughout my married years, I gained fifteen pounds, and the cesarean scar won’t go away. It’s right above the pregnancy pouch I can’t shed.
Heat crawls up my face, and I look away from him. If he noticed I was checking him out, he doesn’t remark on it, but makes efficient work of putting on his vest.
“How about Connor?” I ask.
“I’m already wearing one, but thanks for asking,” Connor says.
I fix my clothes, but there’s no way I can iron or wash my dress. If I finger comb my hair, I might cry when I rip out the knots I know are in there, so I leave it all alone. “Where are we going?” …that requires a vest.
The car climbs. I roll down the window and take stock of our surroundings, then roll my window back up. Oh, heck no. “Are we going to the Crossbow mansion?”
Declan purses his lips.
“Are you kidding me?” I scoot toward him. “We can’t go to the mansion. The police are there.”
“The police got sent home.”
I blink, glitch, more accurately, because my brain can’t even process what he’s saying. I almost ask who he thinks he is, but then remember he’s a Crossbow. He can send cops home the way petulant children get sent to detention.
“I don’t know much about your father, but the Selnoans think you two aren’t involved in the family business.”
“We weren’t,” Declan says.
