Stunned, I lay on my back for several seconds and stared up at the gray sky. Cold rain filled my eyes, sharp against my exposed skin.
A sickening screech of tires brought me to my senses. Wincing, I flipped onto my front and raised my head in time to see Pierce’s car veer off the road, straight into a tree. A tremor raced over the wet ground at the moment of impact. The front end looked like a metal jigsaw puzzle someone had just dumped out of a box, and wispy white steam rose from under the crumpled hood.
I closed my eyes, the crash that killed Jameson washing over me—smoke and gasoline and the coppery taste of blood.
Holy shit.
I just killed another Worthington!
I’d wished for Pierce’s death in various creative ways while locked up for a crime I hadn’t committed. That didn’t mean I truly wanted the man dead.
Knowing my luck, I’d be blamed for this accident too.
I sucked in a breath through my teeth when my scraped palms hit the dirt and wet gravel as I pushed myself upright.
I took a tentative step toward the wrecked car but stopped when the driver’s side door flew open. The crumpled metal screeched in protest.
Pierce stumbled out.
He was alive.
Thank god, he was at least alive.
He gripped the car door for balance and raised his arm to touch his forehead, where a nasty gash was already dripping blood. There was a dark stain on the right shoulder of his white dress shirt. He shook his head and blinked several times.
I stayed rooted to the spot, afraid to move or draw his attention to me. Then he straightened, shook off his injuries. His gaze narrowed as he took a step in my direction.
I turned to run.
He stretched out his arm and bellowed, “Madison, stop!”
I froze.
Tilting my head to the side, I stared at him through lowered lashes, afraid to face him directly. Afraid I’d crumble and submit to his command.
The rain had mixed with the blood on his shirt, turning the large red stain pink where it soaked the fabric clinging to the lines of his hard muscle. Until this moment, every time I’d seen him, he’d always been Mr. Perfect. Expensive suit. Perfectly tied tie and shined shoes. Arrogant smile. Always composed and in control regardless of the situation.
His clothes were now bloodied and torn. His eyes burned with anger as more blood trickled over his high cheekbones. His usually impeccably combed hair was ruffled and wet.
Wrapping an arm around his middle to clutch his ribs, he lurched forward. “I mean it, Madison. Not one more fucking step.”
For one baffling moment…I obeyed him.
Only a forlorn bird shriek disturbed the creepy stillness of the desolate country road.
No cars had passed in the moments since the accident.
We were completely alone.
Wind bent the pines’ branches at the tree line. The fog was already engulfing the wrecked car behind him.
I glanced between his approaching form and the woods in front of me.
Pierce paused as he followed my eyes. Returning his attention to my face, he slowly shook his head in warning. “Don’t you dare.”
I smiled for the first time in weeks. “Fuck you,” I fired back.
Pierce’s vicious curse rent the air as I dashed headlong into the deep, dark woods.
