But Jake didn’t seem as scared or as nervous as before. A kind of determination lit in his eyes. “I want to help. It’s—it’s the least I can do.”
“No.” I didn’t want him anywhere near Quinn. Not after what he’d done.
“I can show you where it is. I don’t know the address.”
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t have time for this. “Whatever,” I grumbled, already heading for the door. “Take me there and then you’re leaving.”
35
Quinn
MaraandIstaredat each other.
“You’re right,” I croaked, every word burning through me. “I probably would’ve defended him, and I’m sorry.”
Mara tilted her head. Her gaze went back to the gun in her lap. She was almost transfixed on it. “You understand then,” Mara mused without looking at me.
I wasn’t sure I did. I felt like I was drowning in my own grief, my own sadness, the weight of my life bearing down on me. What if I’d made different choices? What if I hadn’t been so obsessed with being successful? Yes, I wanted to defend people because my brother never got the counsel he deserved, but it became more than that. I had felt so powerless in my life that becoming partner in one of the best firms in the state had become an obsession.
Mara gripped the gun for the first time, her gloved finger poised next to the trigger, but she didn’t lift it.
My heart constricted so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“It will be quick,” Mara said, still not looking at me. “I’m sure you won’t feel anything.”
The calmness in Mara’s tone, the disassociation, pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts faster than if she’d yelled.
I tried to think through the fresh surge of panic.
Mara was going to kill me. She was going to shoot me right here.
Despite everything I had just thought—despite confessing to myself that Mara could be right about me—I shook my head.
“Please,” I whispered, “don’t.”
Graham surfaced in my mind. My sweet, calm, steady Graham. He would know what to do if he were here. He would know exactly what to say.
Tears welled in my eyes. I might never see him again, and that thought hit deeper and harder than any other.
Mara shushed me in a way that sent chills running across my flesh.
“It’ll be okay,” Mara said softly. “This is all for him, in the end. It’s what’s best for Graham.” Mara nodded, as if her conclusion was absolute.
I glared at the woman across from me, my helplessness and desperation morphing into something else entirely. “What? You think that you’re what’s best for him?”
Mara’s hand tightened on the gun, but I continued anyway. “You think too much of yourself.”
Mara moved then—she was on her feet in the next breath, and I tensed, preparing myself for the end.
But Mara just glared down at me, eyes vivid with rage.
“Don’t fucking talk about things you don’t understand,” she spat. “No one is good enough for Graham. I’m just here…to protect him. I’ll follow after you.” The confession lingered heavily in the air.
Some of the anger left me, replaced by a bone-deep heartache.
“I’m tired,” Mara continued. “After this, he won’t look at me the same, even though it’s what’s best for him. I’m ready to go.”
I shook my head. “No. Mara, look, this isn’t the solution. Graham would miss you.”
