“I didn’t want any part of it. I helped you launder money because I—”
“Because you needed the money,” I finish for her.
Her eyes cut at me.
“I deserved to know that I had a living, breathing life out there made from my own flesh and blood.”
Turning her in my hands, I march her toward the bedroom, already set up with leather-padded cuffs.
“No!”
It’s easy to control her. I tighten my fists around her until she squeaks with pain.
“If you want to see our son, you’ll obey me.”
“Fuck you! You can’t—NO!”
I wrestle her to the bed, pinning her down with my body. She is spitting mad—deranged, trying to kick me. Head-butt me. Then I lash one of her wrists to the leather cuff, which is attached to a chain that loops around the headboard. She tries to sock me with her fist, but I snatch it out of midair and I pin it down, stretching her arm over her head.
She wants to kill me.
It’s fucking hot.
Knowing she’ll hate it, I bend down and plant my lips over her protesting mouth as I secure her other wrist.
“Luc, please don’t take him away from me. Please!”
A sob leaves her throat at the end of her sentence, and then a sudden bout of self-disgust hits me. I can’t tear a mother from her child, but I need to make her stay—something that will ensure she won’t make a stupid mistake like run outside. She’ll be dead.
I’m still pissed as I turn my back on her tearstained face, my lips still wet from kissing her. I attach her ankles to the chains.
“PLEASE, DON’T HURT HIM!”
What the fuck?
I stand up and walk to her head as she tries to shrink into the mattress, guilt already blossoming over her face.
“Did you ever consider that I might love him just as much as you do?”
She pales.
“No. Of course not.”
I turn my back on her, and she cries out with an anguished sob.
“Luc, I’m sorry!”
I don’t know how I can ever forgive her.
CLAIRE
My raw eyes snap open like jaws. This popcorn-white ceiling is unfamiliar, and my back aches from the hard mattress. I reach up to scratch my nose and my hands jerk, restrained by leather cuffs. A vivid memory of a man I used to date hits me like a spike through the brain. He found me. He fucked me. The evidence still pounds between my legs. My face is tight and my eyes are sore from squeezing out tears.
I’m kidnapped.
After all the precautions I took at my new home with my new identity, and even with Frank constantly checking in on me, Johnny’s people found me. Just like I always feared.
I’m fucked. He’s reeling from the shock of finding out that he’s a father, but as soon as that wears off, I’m dead. The cops who brought me into witness protection told me many times what would happen if I ever showed up in Montreal again. They’ll find you. They’ll torture and kill you.
Luc spelled out what happens to rats when we were together.
“Talking to the police might as well be a death sentence for us.”
I believe him. I knew the man he worked for. Johnny Cravotta, a man with a reputation that always made a line of nausea creep in my mouth whenever I shook his hand. He scared the shit out of me, no matter how many times Luc brought me to dinners with the rest of the crew, his arm wound tightly around my waist. The boss never gave me but a thin-lipped smile. He didn’t approve of bringing women in family business. I didn’t want to do it, but Luc treated me so well. No one ever gave a damn about me my whole life. He was the type of guy who would carry me over a puddle of water so that my shoes wouldn’t get wet. I would have done anything for him. He said everything would be fine. Don’t worry. Johnny’s bought everyone in this casino.
The shame makes me wilt. I never was a criminal my whole life. I worked hard to make ends meet all on my own with no family to help. Every day was a fucking struggle, but Luc swept in and started taking burdens off my shoulders. He wanted to take care of me—be his woman—and I was only too happy to let myself fall in his arms. I forgot myself.
Now look at me. Back to where I fucking started.
This isn’t going to end well. I need to get out of here.
Then I blink and I realize that the last time I slept through a whole night was before Étienne was born. I haven’t been this rested in weeks. A cold feeling grips my chest.
What if Luc forgot to feed him?
I scream for him, my voice rebounding sharply on the cracked ceiling. I scream until my voice is hoarse, and I thrash in my chains, determined to get out. My baby needs me.
BAM!
The door swings open, and the man who haunted my dreams stands silhouetted against the doorway. My heart clenches painfully when he steps inside, his handsome face twisted with rage. He has a slightly pinched look, as if he didn’t sleep the whole night.