That’s the moment something flickers in my mind.
Dom’s shoulder digging into my stomach as he carries me like a sack of potatoes toward a door.
The sound of voices.
The smell of his cologne.
My fear heightened.
Outside, the fresh air hits me as he strides across the sidewalk to his car. He sets me down in the passenger seat of his Bentley. “Stay in the car,” he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.
A gun gleams in his hand. When did he pull that out?
He disappears.
Gunshots ring out. One, two, three in rapid succession.
People are shouting. I can’t make out the words over the ringing in my ears.
Fear grips me. I can’t stay here. I fling the car door open and run.
The memory ends abruptly, leaving me gasping. The memory is so sharp and vivid that my entire body shivers and my heart hammers against my ribs.
I can’t breathe. My lungs refuse to work, like I’m drowning right here in the shower.
My vision narrows, dark spots dancing at the edges.
I grip the shower wall, but the tiles are too slippery under my fingers and I sink to the floor.
Was Dom trying to kill me? Was he the one chasing me that night?
I shut off the water with trembling hands and tentatively rise to my feet, practically falling out of the shower. After grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my body, I sink back against the bathroom wall, trying to force air into my lungs.
One breath. Two. Three.
Dom with a gun. Gunshots. Footsteps chasing me.
Footsteps.
“Think, Amara.”
I close my eyes and press my fingertips over my temples and try to remember. My memory has been creeping back to me, bit by bit. Or was I just blocking out the memories all the time?
The footsteps—were they Dom’s?
My breathing steadies as I focus, trying to pull the memory hidden in the fog at the back of my mind.
The footsteps... They were distinctive. Were the footsteps his?
If nothing else comes, I have to keep this information to myself. If he thinks I know he tried to kill me, I don’t know how he’d react. But would he kill me if I were pregnant with his child?
I haven’t had a period, but it could be from my injuries. Why the hell did I tell him I was pregnant? I need to find out if I am today. But maybe being pregnant will keep me alive.
I press my head between my knees and try to blank my mind so my memories can come forward.
“Think Amara…Did the footsteps sound heavy like Dom’s? What happened after I ran? Did he chase me?”
And then I remember…
