“What do I do?” I whispered, staring at the brandy, like it could give me an answer.
My cell, lying face down on the counter, rang again, the sound constricting my chest. I couldn’t answer it. Not when I was falling apart.
With an angry tug, I removed the crumpled check from my pants’ pocket and flattened it on the wooden surface beside my phone. The ringing stopped.
The six zeros wavered in my watery vision, mocking me.
One million dollars.
Mine, as long as I left Jack.
Christ, the woman must think me a serious threat to use my family against me.
Margo Blackstone was an infection—a disease—with no likelihood of a cure once she targeted you.
Feeling as if I were already hanging by only my nails on the precipice, I stared dully at the inch of amber liquid in my glass. Usually, if I got hurt due to my own actions, I accepted it as my fault and moved on. It affected no one but me. But the people I loved would be destroyed if I didn’t come up with a solution fast because that horrid woman would do exactly what she’d threatened.
God.I squeezed my eyes shut, pain streaking through me, knowing Jack would have gotten my message by now, and realizing how hurt he would be.
My cell rang again. Unable to stop myself, I turned the phone face-up. At Jack’s name on the display, my eyes flooded with tears. The thought of never seeing him again, of having his arms around me, hearing his teasing, or drowning in his kisses, a sob caught in my throat. Consumed with agony, I tore the check in half. And again, and again. The happiness I’d finally found had been shattered by one manipulative woman.
I grabbed my cell and stumbled off the stool, needing to get out of here—and collided into a hard wall of muscles. “Sorry—”
“Ray?”
Callused hands grabbed my upper arms. I looked up into concerned dark blue eyes. With my face too numb to form a smile, I didn’t even try. Instead, I pushed my cell and the torn check into my pants’ pocket. “War. Hey.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here…” He glanced around the bar, then his attention slipped back to me. His brow creased. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I gotta go.”
“No.” War gently but firmly clasped my wrist with warm, callused fingers. “You’re upset, I’m not letting you leave like this.”
“Dammit, War! I said I’m fine. Now, let me go—”
But the grim set of his jaw warned me he wouldn’t. Damn him. He pulled me to a table in the back. The guys there looked up with awe in their eyes, nodded, and then vacated the table. Apparently, being a famous—or infamous—person with a temper like War’s worked.
“Sit.”
My anger looking for an outlet, I growled. “You don’t get to give me orders, I’m leaving!”
His grip tightened on my wrist. “Ray, don’t make you hold you down.”
“You’re not my keeper—”
“No, but I do care about you.”
He had to go and say that. Tears crowded my eyes again. I couldn’t speak to him, or I’d break down. And if I did, he’d tell Jack. My head hurting, I sat down and rubbed my brow, looking for ways to escape him, flee from my agony.
“A wine spritzer—no, make that a brandy,” he said. I glanced up as he turned those dark blues on me. “Talk.”
I pressed my lips into a tight line.
“What the fuck did Jack do?”
At his snarl, I reared back. And swallowed. “It’s not him.”
“Then who? Because Iknowit’s not you. Ray…” He leaned forward, resting his corded forearms on the table, his gaze intense. “I’ve never seen him this way with anyone before.He’s in love with you.”
