“Ah!” I slid wildly on the pristine tan leather as he floored the acceleration, shooting from the garage and into Florida sunshine. He drove like a damn lunatic, taking corners too fast, making the wheels squeal.
My stomach crashed against my insides. Nausea made me sweat as I fumbled for a seat belt.
Did he not care at all?
He’s such an… ass. An uncommunicative ass who doesn’t want to face the truth.
“Kill—”
He swiped his hand through his hair, pressing harder on the gas. “Don’t.”
I hugged my chest, slip-sliding even with the seat belt tight as he careened around a corner. “Please… you have to listen to me. I didn’t do it to hurt you! I honestly believe I know you. I can’t explain it—”
“You don’t need to explain it. You’re done here. You succeeded in seeing me again and you’ve made it worse for yourself.”
“How?”
He clutched the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. “I told you before that you wouldn’t get sweet or caring from me. I told you not to lie to me or to try and touch me. Yet, you did all of those fucking things. You dragged more emotion out of me in a few days than anyone’s been able to do in years and I fucking hate you for it. Not only did you force me to come back and listen to more of your lies, you think after everything you’ve done that I’ll just let you go?” He shook his head, chuckling sadly. “That’s not how sins work, sweetheart. They demand payment. Same fucking payment that I paid.”
He sped past street signs, driving like a reckless idiot.
“And vengeance? What of that?”
His head swiveled, green eyes latching onto mine before returning to the road. “You don’t know a fucking thing about vengeance. Don’t spin another tale. I’m done with your bullshit.”
“You’re right. I don’t know about revenge. I have no enemies—that I can remember. But I do know what they say about it. That carrying out harm to others not only hurts your intended victims, but yourself, too. You end up being hurt. Forgiveness—”
“Forgiveness?” he yelled, punching the steering wheel and making the horn blare. “You dare talk to me about forgiveness? You have no right—none—to try and preach how I should live my life. You don’t know a damn thing of what they did to me. To her. To my fucking future. They ruined me!”
The twisted agony in his tone turned my heart into a mangled, useless thing. I wanted to take his pain and cure him. I wanted him to let it go so it didn’t fester and kill him. The more time I spent with him, the more I wondered what happened to the simple, kind boy from my past.
“You don’t look ruined. Want to know what I see when I look at you?”
“No. Shut up.”
“I see a man who’s so intelligent I can imagine it’s exhausting living inside your brain. You’re wealthy, respected by both peers and government and media. You have it all.”
A vein throbbed dangerously in his neck as he shook his head, laughing under his breath. It sounded manic—like the tip of a volcano that was about to explode from the depths and rain molten lava. “Have it all?” I have it all?” He hunched over the wheel. “You have it wrong, Sarah. I have nothing. Fucking nothing because they took it all.”
“I know you’re hurting. And I won’t try and understand what you’re dealing with, but you can’t live your life blocked from feeling. You’ll snap.”
He’s already done that.
I feared for his sanity. I hadn’t meant to push him. But this would be my last opportunity. My farewell attempt to make him crack and listen.
He laughed coldly. “Snap? Sweetheart, I snapped years ago and don’t need any woman trying to make me fucking soft. I’m done and I’m gonna make sure I never have to lay eyes on you or hear your lies ever again.”
My shoulders slumped as standoffish silence filled the car. How could I make him see? He meant to sell me—get rid of me. What sort of man did that?
A broken one.
I just wanted to be freed. I would leave—I would give him my word he would never see me again. He didn’t need to ruin my life just like his was. “For a genius, you don’t seem to understand,” I whispered.
He gritted his jaw, refusing to reply.
My mind raced with ways to get him to pay attention—something had to trigger inside him. I just had to keep pushing. “What happened in the changing room that day? Explain to me the connection. That kiss, Killian… It was more than two strangers lusting after each other. It had layers… history.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened, the vein in his neck still throbbing crazily. “You’re only making this worse.”
“For you or for me? Tell me what you felt. Tell me what you were thinking when you kissed me.”
He growled under his breath. “What happened is none of your—”
“Goddamn business,” I finished for him. Throwing my hands up, I snarled, “I already know, genius. It’s because of her. Me! You’re so damn in love with a dead girl that you can’t—just for a single moment—allow yourself to enjoy another woman. Even if that other woman is her!”
He attacked the steering wheel. Whirling it to the right, he shot from traffic and slammed to a stop in a turning lane. Spinning in his seat, he brought the wrath of hell upon me. His arm shot forward, smacking my thigh so hard my muscle smarted through the bronze dress. My skin pricked with heat from the reprimand—of being hit like a disobedient child.
“You aren’t her. Why the fuck won’t you get that?”
“I agree I can’t remember the right name, but explain the rest. Please, I’m begging you—explain the rest, so it makes sense, because right now the only conclusion I can see is that I’m the girl you think you killed.”
His face went white. Holding up a shaking finger, he hissed, “You mention her again or speak to me like that and we’ll have a serious fucking problem.”
Tears burned my eyes; my lip wobbled. “What happened to you?”
What happened to the genius boy who stole my heart and gave me his? What happened to us?
“Life happened, sweetheart. Just like it’s happening to you.”
I couldn’t stop shaking. “You need to let someone in. You have to stop hurting!”
“There’s no space for anyone but me.”
“No. There’s no space for anyone but her!”
He pushed me—such a juvenile thing to do but the rage in his eyes glittered dangerously.
I slid on the leather, rubbing my knee where his large fingers had touched me. “What do you feel when you look at me? Do you see the girl you loved or do you see the girl you’re about to sell? Is that why you can’t stand me? Because I remind you so much of a girl that you let down in your past?”
He exploded.
Tearing off his seat belt, he wrenched open the door and flew from the car. In cyclonic rage, he punched a street sign, then whirled around and kicked the SUV tire. He glowered at me through the open door. “Shut up! One more word about things you don’t understand, and I’ll knock you out so cold, you’ll wake up belonging to someone you’ve never seen and I’ll be long gone.”
Shaking out the pain in his knuckles, he snarled, “Understand?”
“Understand, Buttercup? I expect to see you there. I don’t want to be the only one telling our parents that we want to be together.”
I smiled, beaming at the green-eyed boy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. “I will. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Jagged agony lacerated my heart as knowledge blazed bright and horrid.
I made a promise to be there. We both did. But neither of us kept that promise.
We never saw each other again.
Our love died forever two weeks after my fourteenth birthday—six months before he turned eighteen, so close to having everything we’d ever wanted.
I crumbled in on myself. The memory came with emotions too overwhelming to process. Why had it been the las
t time I’d ever seen him? What happened to us? What horrible tragedy was my mind trying to hide?
The fire.
Blood.
Gunshots.
Screaming.
My heart tried to leap from my chest. The stench of death suffocated my lungs. The fire was lit to cover up a murder. It consumed the corpses of…
The wall grew thicker, firmer, lacing itself with padlocks and heavy chains, determined not to let me see.
Whose blood did I crawl through to safety while the flames of hell turned me to cinders? Who dropped the match that stole my life and memories?
Killian breathed hard, not offering any consolation as I came apart before him. The memory of a love so pure and unsullied buckled my lungs and I sobbed.
I thought I was done in the dining room with the cloying scent of pizza. But I wasn’t. Not truly.
This was my breaking point. Right here, on the side of the road, on the way to be sold.
Wrapping my arms around my rib cage, I surrendered to the keening rage and grief inside. I allowed it to spew forth, exorcising my lackless memory and torrenting over my knees. With each sob, I curled further until my forehead touched my knees and still I kept folding. Folding in on myself, becoming a piece of origami, twisting from the girl I wished I was to nothing more than a commodity to sell.
I wasn’t aware of anything as my world spiraled into grief.
I forgot about Killian and yielded to the burn of scalding tears.
I didn’t see him stalk around the car.
I didn’t hear him open my door.
I didn’t care.
About anything anymore.
Burrowing my face into my knees, I cried harder, purging myself of everything that had happened.
A comforting pressure rested on my shoulder blades. I curled harder, my arms crushed between my stomach and legs.
The pressure moved to my biceps, forcing me upright—demanding I abandon my sanctuary and straighten.
No!
I wanted to remain cocooned and as small as possible.
I fought the pressure, but Kill gave me no choice but to ease upright, revealing my rivering eyes and blotchy cheeks.
I frowned in confusion. Kill stood with his face tight and gaze churning. He hands dropped from my body the moment I obeyed and sat up. Quickly, I looked away. I couldn’t see him. Not after what he’d said and done—how remote and unfeeling he was.
My tears flowed harder as Kill unbuckled my seat belt, and without a word, tugged me into his arms.
The force of his embrace dragged me close. I crashed against his chest. His heart raged beneath my ear, chugging as fast as mine.
His scent of winds and leather wrapped around me like a soft blanket, his strong grip locking me to him so I could never escape.
It instantly felt like… home.
His smell, his warmth, his solidness. I knew. My body responded and another cry escaped my lips.
I didn’t want to question why he’d given in. Why he’d granted me safety in his embrace. But I would take full advantage.
Wrapping my arms around him, I held him as tight as humanly possible while misery continued to crash. I didn’t hold him for solace, I held him for an anchor, so I wasn’t swept away by tears.
Pressing my face against his chest, I expected nothing more. The fact that he hugged me was more than I’d ever hoped.
But then his hold lashed tighter, squeezing hard and strong. He held me like a man who was eternally sorry and wanted his body to transmit the measure more surely than words. He held me like a man saying good-bye.
Snuggling into his chest, I sucked in a heavy breath.
This was where I belonged. Here. With the man from my nightmares. The boy from my dreams.
“Arthur…” I trembled.
He stiffened, pushing me away. Dropping his arms, the static heat from our embrace faded into the air. His voice bristled. “I’m sorry.”
My eyes locked onto his, while I attempted to wipe away sticky tears on my cheeks.
His forehead furrowed. “I’m a bastard—I know that—but I’m not normally this nasty. I truly am sorry for what I’ve done—for kicking you and treating you so cruelly. You don’t deserve it.” His green gaze remained unreadable, locked from all emotion, arms rigid by his sides.
I nodded, swallowing back the strange feelings that were so real, yet years too late. “I understand. You can’t stand to suffer what happened in the past.”
He nodded. “Just…” He sighed. “Let’s agree to disagree. No matter what you say or do, you’ll never get me to believe you. I’ve lived for too long believing things others wanted me to believe, and it’s brought me nothing but hardship. I know what I saw. I know what I feel. She’s gone, and I won’t have her memory tarnished.”
His shoulders slumped. “Just… accept and let’s move on. Okay? It’s best for both of us.”
I hung my head, not wanting to look into his familiar gaze. He wanted me to drift away—to stop reminding him of the pain inside.
He was weak.
“I’ll accept that.” Lowering my voice, I pleaded, “But please let me go. Drop me off at the nearest police station, and I swear on my life you’ll never see me again. Just please—” My voice cracked again. “I don’t want to be sold.”
For the longest moment, he stared at the ground. Thoughts flashed over his face, ideas forming then discarded. Hope remained in my heart but I knew it was hopeless.
He raised his head. “If there was something I could do, I’d do it. I’d let you go, truly. But this is above my head now. Things are going on that even I’m not privy to and I can’t go against orders.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He smiled sadly. “Won’t. He’s the only person that’s ever been there for me. Thick and thin. He took me from my ruined beginning and gave me an empire to rule. I’ll be forever grateful and won’t go behind his back.”
My heart panged for his loyalty, for his love. The love I wasn’t worthy of.
My head hung and silence fell between us.
I didn’t say a word—no acknowledgment of his decision or argument for my freedom. It was over.
After a minute, Kill nodded as if I’d accepted his skewed promise. Pressing his lips together, he closed my door and climbed back into the driver’s seat.
It was done. I’d fought and lost. He’d argued and won.
Our time was over and I now had to face the future.
The next time Kill stopped the car we were at the harbor.
He parked and climbed out, coming to open my door and offer his hand. It seemed the fight in the car had given him closure and he treated me like any other girl he’d been told to sell.
Not that I knew what that was like, of course.
Taking his hand, I slid from the SUV. Squinting against the midafternoon sun, I asked, “How many?”
His eyes remained emotionless as he slammed my door and locked the car with the remote. “How many what?”
Taking my hand again, more out of imprisonment than togetherness, he led me toward the dock and the glittering teal ocean. His grip was dry and warm, encircling my fingers in a way that made my body sing with electricity. He could deny he knew me. He could yell and fight against everything I’d tried to show him, but he couldn’t hide the connection between our bodies.
“How many girls have you trafficked?” Sadness sat on my chest. I hated to think that this man could be involved with something so wrong. It was worse than theft… It was tantamount to murder. Effectively cutting a woman’s life span into the will of an owner who might grow bored of her within a few hours.
Not to mention the horror they would endure before their—my—last breath was taken.
Kill tensed, never looking at me. “You’re the sixth and last. If you must know, I refuse to involve myself in crime, regardless of what you think of me.”
My feet stumbled. The magazine covers and the praise of helping the community popped into my mind. Everyth
ing pointed to him behaving within the law. He’d come from crime—there was no doubt about that—but I had the feeling he’d turned his Club from the dark and into the light.
“It was a fucking blessed day for all when he took over the Corrupts and made us Pure Corruption.” Grasshopper’s voice echoed in my ears. If that was true—then what the hell was this about?
“What do you mean?”
His boots crunched on gravel as my jeweled flip-flops that Grasshopper had given me slapped quietly. My left leg and foot danced with color in the sunshine while my scars caught the light in a mixture of shy disfigurement.
“Stop asking questions,” Kill muttered, closing the distance between us and a white speedboat. The port wasn’t too busy, only a few clusters of people and vessels moored to creaking riggings.
“Why did you agree to sell me and the other women, then? If it goes against your beliefs, it must be something big. It can’t be for money—you already have more than enough from stock trading.”
He gave me a sideways look, surprise flicking. “You’re right—it’s not for money.”
A skipper with sun protection smeared thickly over his nose and a baseball cap covering his blond hair jumped from the speedboat as we slowed to a stop. “You Kill? Jared called and said there was a change of plans.”
Kill tilted his chin. “Yep. You know where we’re going?”
“Sure do. Not far. Fifteen minutes at the most.”
Kill turned to me and pointed at the gleaming white speedboat. “Get in.”
“Jared? Who’s Jared?”
Kill smirked. “Grasshopper. Jared’s his real name.”
“Oh.” For some reason, it felt odd that the man I’d grown accustomed to had such a normal name. I liked MCs for that reason. Your birth name didn’t define you—your brothers did that with nicknames.
Thorn.
My eyes widened. Thorn was my father’s nickname. I frowned trying to remember his birth name and why he’d earned the strange term of Thorn.
Kill grabbed my elbow, jerking me toward the boat. The sides gleamed with a motif and the name Seahorse Symphony. “I’ll help you.”
I pulled back, suffering a horrible highlight reel of what would happen if I got on that boat. I’d never see him again. Never be free. Subservient to a sadistic asshole for the rest of my life.