a long time ago.” She slowly drags herself to her feet, tentatively reaching for the gun, only to be shoved away.
“Get inside. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Cole, please listen.”
“So help me God, Layla, if you don’t walk back into that restaurant and pretend this never happened, I will make you regret bringing a daughter into this world.”
She gasps, her tear-streaked face losing color. “What does that—”
“Now.”
“Do what he says.” Benji jerks his chin at her. “Go.”
“No.” She shakes her head, frenzied. “This was my fault. My decision. I did this, Cole. Not him.”
“Either get inside or watch your husband die.”
Fuck.
I reach for my gun, prepared to aim at Torian, when Hunter makes the same move. I turn my attention to him instead, both of us staring down the barrel of the other.
“Fucking hell.” Decker jumps down the stairs. “Why don’t we all take a breath and get the story straight before we start turning on each other?”
Torian ignores him. “On your knees,” he demands of Benji.
“I said, get the story straight first.” Decker pulls out his gun, placing it to the back of Torian’s head.
Holy fucking shit. It’s a Mexican standoff.
No winners. All losers.
Layla stumbles backward, shaking, sobbing, her hand raising to cover her mouth.
“What the hell are you doing, Deck?” Hunt snaps. “Lower your fucking gun.”
“I can’t.” He shrugs. “Cole’s protecting his family, and I’m protecting mine.”
“How the fuck do you figure that?”
“If Benji dies, Luca could be next by association. And unfortunately, my sister has caught feelings for that asshole, which means he’s as good as family to me. I can’t stand by and let this happen. Not until the full story is heard.”
30
Penny
I stare into the distance, my body heavy as I struggle not to throw up.
I know what I saw back there.
Luca had been blindsided. By his brother.
I feel it in my gut; Benji is Dodge. I just can’t bring myself to believe it. That truth would have major consequences and I don’t want to contemplate any of them.
“Want to talk about it?” Sarah gives me a sympathetic look from behind the wheel as we turn and head down a street I’m unfamiliar with.
“No.” I glance over my shoulder, checking to make sure the silver sedan is behind us.
“Don’t worry; he’s following. He won’t leave us.” Sarah gives another one of those pitying looks. “I’m just taking a more populated route home instead of the fastest.”
I nod and settle into my seat, not seeing anything but the scene back in the parking lot as we pass block after block.
I can’t get Luca’s stricken face out of my head. The anger. The agony. I want to be there with him. By his side. Learning the truth.
“Your parents are nice,” Sarah murmurs. “Quiet, but doting. They seemed to have had a great time driving around the country in their RV.”
I don’t answer. Not only because the inane chitchat is life-draining, but because I can’t add thoughts of my parents to the washing machine of turmoil building inside me.
I want her to take me to Luca. I need to know what’s going on.
I’m about to ask her to turn around when a car horn blares behind us, the flashing lights of high beams illuminating the interior.
I rise in my seat, blinded by the car behind us as a white truck speeds past on the wrong side of the road. I panic, bracing for an attack when it turns down the next street, practically on two tires.
“It’s okay.” Sarah gives me a half-hearted smile. “Just another asshole who doesn’t know how to drive.”
No, it’s an omen. A stark sign I’m heading in the wrong direction.
“I have to go back.” I clear my throat as we approach an intersection, still able to hear the screeching truck in the distance. “I need to talk to Luca.”
“Take my phone.” She grabs her cell from her jeans pocket and hands it over. “Call him.”
“I don’t want to call him. I need to see him.”
She ignores me, pulling to a stop at a red light. The longer she remains silent, the more I hear the taunting sounds of that truck, the squeak of rubber, the rev of the engine.
The noise adds to my urgency, pushing me to hurry up and get to Luca. “Please, Sarah. Turn us around.”
The light changes to green and she accelerates.
“Sarah, I want—”
Tires shriek.
A horn blasts behind us.
We reach the middle of the juncture, my focus moving from Sarah to the beaming lights barreling toward us from her side window. “Sarah,”