Page 83 of Stolen Rebel

“I kind of backed myself into a corner to test my theory, and I’m right. There’s a man in front of me.”

“Rowan?”

I pause for long enough to take a breath.

“Yeah?”

“Black Land Rover?”

Suspicion creeps up my spine. “Yeah.”

“Guy in the front seat look late twenties, dark hair?”

I swallow hard. I can’t really tell from this distance, but I’ve seen him a few times on my drive. “Yeah.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, already knowing the answer to the question I’m about to ask. “Sorcha?”

“Mm-hmm?” She knows what I’m going to ask, too. But I think we both need her to tell me.

“How do you know?”

“Well. Would you fuck off.” She slaps something in the background. “Yes, I’m telling her, you arsehole.” Another slap. “Liam sent security after you.” She goes quiet for a beat, and there’s a muffled sound against the microphone. “For your protection.”

“For… my… protection?”

Aren’t those the same words Brian used every single time he made me check in, or locked a door behind me?

“That’s what he said.”

I purse my lips, slowly nodding though she can’t see me. That’s what he said. Not “that’s right” or “that’s what we do,” but “that’s what he said,” like it’s a crock of shit.

“Is he there?”

“Rowan?” Liam’s voice is almost instantly on the line.

“Call off your guard dog, Liam. I’m tired of driving around the countryside in circles. And you owe Sorcha a tank of diesel.”

I hang up and wait for Liam to tell the man in front of me to fuck off out of my space. He does. Is he going to keep following me? I guess only time will tell.

I’m still not sure where I want to go or what to do, but I know I need to keep moving, I’m not ready to go back to Prison Warden Mahoney yet. I might, in fact, drive over him with Sorcha’s car.

The more I drive, the more I remember. There’s a place a couple of towns over from Mahoney Manor that has the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted. It’s been fucking years, and now I’m this close with nowhere else to be, it feels like maybe it’s time. It’s rich, has depth but isn’t too sweet, and they will add syrups if you want different flavors. They’ll even add a massive, toasted marshmallow on top if you’d like.

My mouth waters. Yeah. That’s where I’m going.

Liam used to love the place too. We came often. It’s far enough away from his home that his family or one of their men wouldn’t stumble across us. That prick doesn’t deserve the best hot chocolate in the world, and telling him I went without him will be another “fuck you” with a smile.

When I get there, it’s busy, but there’s a little two-seater table tucked into the corner out of sight. I can hide here until the hot chocolate eases my blood pressure and rage levels down to an acceptable level.

The bell over the door jingles. Something in my spine flexes.

“Ah, Brian, how’s it going? It’s been… well, it’s been a while.”

A bolt of terror strikes straight into my chest. Surely be to God, it’s not the same man. Brian’s a common name. It’s not him. It can’t be. Coincidences happen, but this would be the cruelest twist of fate.

I shrink lower in my seat and curl my hands around the giant mug, watching my knuckles turn white, my palms heating.

“Aye.”

My stomach plummets to the parquet floor. It is him.