time in his life. He didn’t want my job.
He had an axe to grind against Legion.
So did I.
I didn’t mind Anthony’s directive to fuck over the MCs because frankly, I’d always loathed bikers. Killian’s attitude toward my wife had cemented that view. The creep stalking Liana needed to die, and Anthony had given me the perfect opportunity.
My most pressing issue wasn't Anthony or the Family. It was the pressure tightening my throat when I went home. Liana spent the last few weeks immersed in research. Anthony's reappearance had inspired her to “do more,” or so she kept saying. I opened her laptop days ago, and a dozen different tabs related to human trafficking filled her browser. I snorted, glancing at a cover letter she'd written for an internship at a charity.
My wife, the humanitarian.
Our differences amused me to no end. I admired that she spent so much energy helping people and pushing me to do the same. I'd grudgingly agreed to volunteer for Habitat Humanity with her, like an idiot. She'd convinced me to run a toy charity drive for needy children in Dorchester, and I'd conceded.
I had to pull back.
If this woman looked at me with her stormy blue eyes and whispered please, I’d do anything for her, and it pitted my stomach with dread. I should’ve been content with owning her, fucking her, but as long as she wore the necklace…I was miserable.
It taunted me every day, a constant reminder of who I was. Who I wasn’t. More than once, I'd fantasized about taking a hammer to it. Grinding that salmon-colored monstrosity to dust. I couldn't stand the thing. She started shoving it in her nightstand, but I couldn't forget the other man. I couldn't let it go. I raked her social media profile to find out who the fuck was it for the twentieth time.
My office doors burst open, admitting a flustered Liana. She was terrible with boundaries, and it irked me.
I slammed my laptop shut. “Can you knock?”
Red patched burned high on Liana's cheeks. She wore a smoldering look that sometimes meant she was down to fuck.
“We need to talk.”
My mood nosedived. “If you’re here to rope me into another charity event, I have one word for you—No.”
That came out nastier than I’d intended. It'd been a bad day. Liana had a string of guys vying for her goddamn attention in her text messages, and one of them had invited her out for coffee. She turned him down, but that didn't stop me from scouring his personal information and sending Vitale to his apartment with explicit instructions. She was probably pissed about that.
I didn’t care.
“Did you send Vitale to threaten my classmate?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
“Why would you do that?”
Because I had no self-control with my wife. Because the idea of her sitting down with someone else boiled my blood.
I cocked my head, refusing to respond.
A thin smile staggered across her face. “You know, I thought you cared about me. I was stupid enough to believe you had a good side, but you’ve gone too far this time.”
I didn't like where this was going.
She stormed to my desk, her hair flying as she slapped a piece of paper down. I glanced over the business card, and my insides ripped apart.
Flatstick Pub
Her stare impaled me. “Tell me you had nothing to do with his disappearance.”
Fuck.
Liana swept around the chair, hand on my arm. “Please, Vinn.”
Her suffocated whisper tightened my chest. I couldn’t lie to her, but what would happen when I confessed? A rapid chill encased my limbs in ice. My brain froze with an image of her storming out the door. A wave of dizziness passed over me.
No.
She couldn’t leave.
“Vinny.”
“He’s dead, Li.”
Hurt lay naked in her soft eyes. She cupped her mouth, gasping.
My heart squeezed.
Fuck.
“Does human life mean that little to you?”
An inner torment gnawed at me. “Do you want honesty or are you just looking to feel better?”
“Honesty!”
I flinched. “I don’t see why I should care about everyone.”
“That’s soulless,” she hissed.
“Maybe I don't have a fucking soul, then. Is that what you want to hear?” I shouted, agony piercing my stomach when she backed away. “Wait. Honey, I'm still the same man.”
She palmed her face with trembling hands, crying. “That’s what scares me.”
I sighed heavily. “You know what the Marines’ unofficial motto is? Get some. We chanted it all the time. Whenever someone brags about getting laid. Whenever we fired our weapons. Whenever we killed. Especially when we killed. There was no hesitation when I took