“Welcome to the madhouse,” Peyton said with wide, laughing eyes. “Drink up, babe, you’re still a little pale.”
The door finally opened and the air changed instantly. It was hot and charged, which somehow settled me.
Every woman in the room went quiet as the men filed into the bar, tension coiled tight in their broad shoulders and long strides. Each pair of eyes scanned the room, looking for the woman they loved, the reason they would fight this fight. One by one, they found who they were looking for and went to them, embracing them as if they meant everything.
And they did.
I want that.
And then I spotted Drew, his gaze was laser-focused on me as he crossed the room, gray eyes scanning me to make sure I was all right. “You okay, babe?” His voice was thick with worry and tension.
I shrugged and got to my feet. “No, but I will be.”
His arms wrapped around me, solid and familiar. It was the first time since all of the shit went down in the parking lot—since I became a killer—that the knot in my chest loosened. “Of course you are,” he whispered in my ear. “You’ve always been somuch fucking stronger than you realize.” He squeezed me tighter and my heart took a breath.
I pulled back slightly and looked at him, studying his handsome, worry-filled face. “How is everything?”
His shoulders tensed. “Not good but not bad. We’re going into lockdown. That means—”
I cut him off. “The girls filled me in on lockdown. Does that mean Diego is here?” My heart pounded against my chest so loud I was sure all of Nevada could hear it.
“Not sure yet,” he said, and shrugged. “But if he’s not already in town, he will be soon. We’ll make sure of it.”
“You actually want him here?” My eyes widened as disbelief took over.
“Fuck, yeah,” he replied in a flat voice. “So I can kill him or verify he’s dead. Death is the only way he’ll stop looking for you.”
I shivered at those brutally honest words. “Okay,” I said. “What do I do?”
“Stay here. Stay safe.”
I shook my head, instinctively rejecting that idea. “I think you should use me,” I said before I could stop myself. I hated even forming those words on my lips. How many times had men used me for their own reasons and I hadn’t realized it until it was too late?Too many times.The difference was this time I was going in with my eyes wide open. I was being useful, not used. “He wants me, and if you dangle me as bait—”
“Not fucking ever,” he spat out each syllable slowly.
“It’s not ideal, I know that.”
He shook his head. “Not fuckin’ happening, Mace.”
He was being stubborn, so I smiled softly, shelving it for now. “Then let me buy you a drink.”
“Drinks are free,” he snorted, offering up a slow, teasing smile.
“Good,” I said. “Because that’s about all I can afford.”
He laughed, kissed my hair. “You were badass today, Mace. I want you to know that I saw what you did and I’m not just grateful, but I am so fucking grateful. I’m proud of you.”
Something in me softened. “I’m proud of me too.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you more.”
And for the first time since all of this began, I let myself have the thought I swore I’d never wish or hope for again.
Maybe this time, I can stay.
Chapter Thirty-One
