“Dove—”
“No. Mama showed me that tabloid, and I know that you were photographed with that model in France.”
Mama had shown it to me the moment we were alone, after she’d shooed Vincent and Daddy out of the room and gotten me bathed and dressed. That had hurt even worse than Eric’s fist because, while I can heal the bruises, I’m having a really hard time not bleeding to death inside.
It hurts that I’m so easily replaceable.
“Dove, you don’t understand,” he begins, and I cut him off before he can say anything to sway me.
“No, I do. I just want to go home and get some rest and enjoy the holidays with my family. You saved my life, and for that I will always be grateful, but this thing between us is over. You’re just not what I need right now.”
Oh God, that lie hurts worse than the pain in my swollen ankle, and it takes everything I’ve got not to start telling him how untrue that is and that I…feel more for him than lust and respect.
I can’t keep fooling myself, and I know that I already feel more for him than a passing fancy. The man is everything I could ever want and more. I love him. Too bad he can’t return the favor.
He stands from the sofa, string down at me with his jaw clenched and ticking.
“This isn’t over.”
Oh, but it is, I think silently, watching him stalk to the mantle with agitated strides and a slump to his shoulders that I’ve never seen.
Chapter Sixteen
Vincent
It’s been three days since dove left me. Three days of forcing myself not to pick up the phone and call her, three days of sleepless nights and miserable regrets.
When I’d answered that phone, happy for the first time since we’d spoken, and realized she had every intention of leaving me, for good—well, I can honestly say I still go into panic mode just remembering her terror-filled voice and the sounds of Eric yelling and shooting at them.
How I’d kept myself together long enough to get there…
When I’d walked into her apartment and seen the broken window, only to be met by a hysterical Bee yelling at me that my dove was alone on that roof, with an armed psychopath, it had unleashed that part of me that I keep well hidden.
That part of me that had grown up in the East End, fighting and scrapping my way towards my ultimate goals. I’ve worked tirelessly to bury the old Vincent, who’d used his fists and superior size to survive.
That night I’d felt him rip free of the leash, and good thing, too, considering what I’d seen when I’d vaulted onto the roof. For the rest of my days I will be haunted by the vision of my dove with a gun shoved into her forehead.
If I’d been a minute later, I know that I would have had to cradle her lifeless body instead of the bloody wreck I’d found. Of course, now I want to kill that piece of shit instead of just getting him fired and beating him senseless for daring to lay hands on my woman.
I just have to find him first, something that’s proving incredibly difficult at the moment, no matter how much manpower or money I throw at the problem.
Eric Brennan has dropped off the face of the earth.
My phone rings, pulling me back from my murderous thoughts, and I answer it with a bark.
“Er, sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a Mr Beechum on the line for you. He says it’s important and that you’ve been waiting for his call.”
“Yes, Marcy. Thank you.”
I’ve been waiting for the ex-Marine to call me back after I’d put him on the job of finding the missing Eric Brennan. The man is reported to be the best in his field, and if he’s calling me this soon I have high hopes.
“Mr Blake.”
“Mr Beechum, tell me you found that bastard.”
“We picked up a lead that he was hiding out in a little hotel down in the Bronx, but he’d already split by the time we got there. I have eyes and ears out for the guy, though. From the looks of that room, you did a lot of damage. He bled all over the place.”
A small thrill of satisfaction arrows through me at the knowledge that I'd at least hurt the son of a bitch enough to cause long-lasting damage, mollifying me for the moment.
It’s killing me that it’s taking this long to catch the piece of shit because I know that getting dove back to New York and into my bed is next to impossible until I either get my hands on Eric or the law catches up with him.
I want her back, now, right this minute, and I can’t even approach the subject until I’ve assured her safety.
“I want that fucker.”
A loud chuckle reaches my ears, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from cursing the big Marine.
“I understand, sir. We’re collaborating with that guy Jeffrey Parker has on the case, and we’re confident we’ll have our guy before the week’s out. Just relax and keep calm. We’ll get him.”