My old man also knew the choices I made in life were my own. If I wanted to maim or kill this motherfucker for trying to wedge himself between me and my wife, I would.
That sister of his, too. She wasn’t so innocent.
They knew someone was behind them as they made their way toward another casa on the property. Someone had invited them to spend the night. Greta held on to her brother’s arm. She looked behind more than he did. I wasn’t trying to creep. If I was, they would have no clue.
I veered, and on my way out, I grabbed a gas can. I shook it. Just enough. After setting it on the handlebars of the bike, I took off for the casa. I parked in a dark area. The brother came to the window, looking out, probably wondering if he had heard the rumble or not. I walked closer to the place, gas can in hand, listening.
“What did you ever see in him?”
“You would not understand!God.He’s everything.”
“You are getting married.”
“So? What is one more ride on the rollercoaster?” She made a dismissive noise. “What did you ever see in her? She is built but—”
“Everything,” he said. “He does not deserve her. I am sosickof men like him getting women like her! You do the right thing andniente. You go around being a thug and you get all the good ones.”
The sound of my bike made them both come to the door. I was circling the property, throwing up dirt as I did. On my last round, I allowed the gas to leak from the container in a straight line between me and the casa. When I had their attention, I stopped, leaning on my bike.
I reached inside of my jacket pocket and lit a match, then flung it. It caught fire, the flames creating a line between heaven and hell.
A physical representation of what my marriage meant to me.
No one crossed to my side of heaven.
If they did, they would have hell to pay.
Chapter26
Mia
The look in his eyes had changed after we’d gotten married. The moment we had kissed, and our vows were sealed, I heard a lockclickinside of his head.
If he had been…intense with me before, it was hard to put into words what he was now. The moment I stepped away from him at the altar and looked into his eyes—it was a moment that changed my life.
He did things to me on our wedding night that he never had before. He claimed me without having to brand my skin. It went much deeper.
I was his before, but after—I washiswife. I hated to compare it to renting and owning, but that was exactly how it felt. I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me. I felt it when he touched me. I could smell the scent of possession on him when another man tried to get close to me.
He reeked of it last night.
I was positive I did, too.
Greta.
I made apffnoise, but my stomach rolled with jealousy, like I was going to be sick. Then my heart hardened, and I wanted to hurt someone—mainly the man lying in bed next to me. We’d never fought like this before. We always fought over me saying no to him, and it was done in a way that left us separated after.
He went his way. I went mine. Somehow, we always came back to each other.
That connection.
It was as strong as a needle on a compass.
Our wedding had fused us together like never before. He went left, I went left. I went right, he went right. If one of us tried to go the other way, a heart got tugged. And not a cute little pang, either. It was a pull that would cause an irreparable wound if the two went in separate directions. It would sever us in half.
I wished I could make my mind go in a different direction, even if my heart couldn’t.
The way Greta looked at him last night...
