Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,93

stands still, holding its breath. This is happening, and I can’t stop it.

My past and my future.

My first love and my second chance.

Two hearts from two separate lives colliding helplessly, cruelly together.

Cole’s furious gaze snaps over my shoulder. “What the fuck?”

His face turns red-hot, eyes wide and agonized, expressing all the nuances of shock as he watches a man step out of my house at six in the morning.

I turn my neck as Trace disperses the fog with his slow approach. Shirtless, clad in pajama pants, he stares at Cole with an unreadable expression.

My stomach feels rock-hard, my throat strangling in a fist of dread. I inch backward, reaching a hand toward Trace.

“You’re with him?” Cole thrusts a shaking finger at Trace, teeth gnashing. “Are you fucking him?”

“You died.” My whisper is tormented, torn from the darkest hours of my life. “You weren’t here.”

Trace stiffens beside me, and I rethink my answer. I’m with Trace. I’m sleeping with him because I love him.

I open my mouth to explain, but Trace speaks first.

“You’re late.”

Three and half years late. I can’t breathe beneath the debilitating shock.

Cole’s alive.

He’s been alive all this time.

And he didn’t come home.

Trace laces his fingers through mine, squeezing painfully hard. “You told me to take care of her.”

A chill slithers up my spine, and my blood turns to ice. “What did you say?”

Cole stands a few feet away, biceps bunching as he scrapes his hands over his head repeatedly. “You weren’t supposed to make contact.” His expression contorts between devastation and rage. “I told you to watch over her, not fuck her.”

They know each other. Trace fucking knows Cole and never thought to mention it?

I yank my hand from his and wrap my arms around my shaking body. “How do you know each other?”

“We used to work together,” Trace says in a hollow voice.

“Auditing for the government?” I gape at him, silently begging him to tell me this is all some kind of joke. “You own a casino. I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

He and Cole share a look, communicating something that’s beyond my realm of understanding. Or rather, beyond my security clearance.

The deployment in Iraq. The silence at the government building. The fake funeral. The removal of tattoos.

“You’re not an auditor, are you?” I ask Cole on a thin breath, shaking from head to toe.

“I can’t say, Danni.” Cole doesn’t remove his glare from Trace.

“You lied to me.” My skin tingles, and disorientation sweeps through me as I turn to Trace. “You lied, too. You knew Cole and never told me.”

More tears fall, and I bury my face in my hands. I need to step back. I need to think.

“What is that?” Cole rushes forward and grabs my wrist, his eyes zeroed in on the engagement ring. “No.” His whisper crashes into a pained guttural noise. “No, no, no!”

He yanks his arm back and stumbles. Every visible muscle in his body goes taut as he spins away and paces like a caged animal, shoulders heaving, hands stabbing through his hair. The tortured sounds coming from him threaten to bring me to my knees.

When he whirls back, he looks absolutely destroyed. “You missed me so much you fucked my best friend? And now you’re what? Getting married?”

Best friend.

How deep does the deceit go?

My shoulders curl forward, wracked by an onslaught of grief and betrayal.

“I didn’t mean that.” Cole rushes toward me and frames my face with shaky hands. “I’m not upset with you. I put you in a terrible position and kept things from you. I had no right to expect you to wait around for a dead man.”

The ache in his voice crushes me, and I feel his terrified pain as if it were my own. Because I never stopped loving him.

None of this is my fault, and he knows that. He’s raging and losing his shit for one reason. The woman he loves is engaged to someone else.

“How long, Trace?” He lowers his hands and claps his gaze on the silent, brooding man at my side. “How long did you wait before you preyed on her?”

“He didn’t prey on me!” I stand taller. “I worked at his casino for four months before we got together.”

“Three years.” Trace shifts beside me, his tone calm and steady. “I was in love with her for three years before I made contact.”

Three years? The ground spins beneath my feet.

“She started dating,” Trace says. “I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I kept the