I have to save Kara. I have to get her out of here.
The pain doesn’t even register as the fire grows. I don’t feel the way it eats into my flesh or how it decimates my hair. The only pain I feel is the agony of knowing Kara is suffering, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to figure out how to make it stop.
“You gotta pull him out. Grab him.”
Hands clamp around my legs, squeezing tight as they pull me away from Kara. My fingers claw at everything I can reach, trying to pull myself back to her.
The smoke around me clears suddenly as I’m dragged free from the vehicle for what I assume is the second time. This time, the arms holding me don’t let go, no matter how hard I struggle, as they haul me away from Kara’s car. The only thing that stops me from losing my mind is the two men trying to fight their way into Kara’s side of the car. I wasn’t strong enough to open the door by myself, but maybe they will be.
Maybe they can succeed where I failed.
The men holding me manage to get us about ten feet from the car, and I watch in horror as the other two men suddenly turn away.
Everything goes so slow and so fast at the same time. I know they’re running—I can see the telltale motions with my own eyes—but they're barely moving.
Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision. My whole body is cold even though I was just surrounded by fire. As much as I want to get back to where Kara is, I can’t move. My limbs won’t do what I ask.
As my muscles give out, going limp as I lose consciousness, the last thing I see is the explosion that steals everything from me.
Ending three lives at once.
Prologue
Mariah
ONE MONTH AGO
Jeb comes strolling into my apartment, the smile that first lured me in curving his lips. The guy really is good-looking, and it makes me feel better and worse at the same time. At least I didn’t forget every lesson I’ve learned over a physically mediocre man. I’m still ashamed of how easily I was swayed by a pretty face.
Again.
The ranch hand I mistakenly saw as something he’s not comes straight for me, pulling off the cowboy hat that used to make me weak in the knees. “I’m glad you called.”
He might be now, but I’m pretty sure he’s gonna feel very differently in about two minutes.
When he reaches for me, I step back, keeping distance between us. “We need to talk.”
I already know how this is going to go. Saw the writing on the wall a week ago and tried to make a clean break, hoping I could pretend I hadn’t wasted more of my time on another shitty man. But—like usual—my wishful thinking has come back to haunt me. All the stars in my eyes blinded me yet again.
Jeb angles a brow at me, his easy smile turning to a cocky smirk. “We can talk later.” His eyes drift down my body, taking me in like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. “After I finish making you regret ghosting me for a week.”
Objectively, I can see why I fell for his bullshit, hook, line, and sinker. The dark-haired, dimpled cowboy helping out at the ranch where I’m currently employed is beyond smooth. He’s got a way of phrasing things that makes it seem like his focus is on me. My happiness. My pleasure.
But it’s not. He’s just looking for a good time, and has figured out a pretty decent method of finding it. If one of the other ranch hands hadn’t pulled me aside and clued me in on his history of fucking and fleeing, I probably would have been totally blindsided when one day he was gone without a trace.
So at least I know what’s coming. That doesn’t make it any less humiliating.
I step back again when Jeb tries to reach for me once more. I’m pretty sure this dance is just going to continue until I say what needs to be said, so I drop the bomb that’s already blowing my whole life up. “I’m pregnant.”
If someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over Jeb’s head, he would have looked less stunned. “What?”
I wish I’d felt the same sort of surprise when my like clockwork period decided to skip out on me this month. I’d made Jeb wear a condom—even though he was resistant at first—every time we were together, thinking it would keep me from having a conversation like this.
But one of those latex bastards betrayed me.
I tried to convince myself the tiny tear was so small the risk was minuscule. That enough of the… substance remained inside that I was probably in the clear.
Apparently Jeb’s little swimmers are way better at sticking around than I’m expecting him to be.
