“I know,” Justin said quietly, his head bowed in guilt.
I took a deep breath. “That’s it then.”
He looked up at me. “What’s it?”
“I have to let her go. If she’s not connected to me, they won’t go after her.”
“If they find out she meant anything to you at all, they’ll use her as leverage.”
“Not if I stay dead.”
Everyone believed I had died that day. I’d planned on going back to her. Her and the baby. But now... with the baby gone, her connection to me was gone with it.
She’d never really believed I loved her. Thought I was marrying her because she was pregnant, and I was. I’d never let my child grow up with their father. But fuck... I loved her more than she would ever know.
I loved her enough to let her go. Let her move on and find someone new. Someone who wouldn’t put her in danger. Someone who could give her the life she deserved.
My mistake was going to her. Seeing her again. The way her hair cascaded down her back. The way her eyes sparkled when she was angry. The way her body reacted to my touch.
I allowed myself to be pushed into going to Rosewood. Manipulated by King. I should have let Romeo go. Let him protect her.
I ran my hands over my face.
I was deluding myself into thinking I had any other choice but to put eyes on her myself. Living in a fantasy where I believed someone else could protect her better than I could.
Love her better than I could.
It didn’t matter now, because I’d fucked up. I knew King would have my ass eventually. I was a dead man walking, andeven if I wanted to, I knew between him and O’Malley, I’d never get close to Morgan again.
Never hold her in my arms, never kiss her lips. I would never make love to her again. Because I was a stupid, stubborn fool.
For seven years, I’d kept my distance because I knew once I laid eyes on her, I’d never be able to walk away. Even now, knowing I wasn’t any good for her, I wanted her back. Knowing that my life was in danger didn’t stop me from wanting to go back to her.
But I couldn’t.
Not again.
I had to let her go.
I climbed out of bed and went downstairs. I sat at the bar and studied the women B had brought in. There were four of them. The blonde was cute, but her fake tits were obscenely huge and disproportionate to her body.
Not like Morgan’s, which were just a smidge more than a handful.
The brunette was too skinny. All bones and no curves. Some guys liked that. I wasn’t one of them. Morgan’s curves were in all the right places. I shook my head, trying not to think about my wife.
She’s not your wife!
The redhead had a nice body, thin but curvy. Her hair was cut short, though. Too short. Not enough to grab and pull. Morgan’s hair was long enough to wrap around my hand.
The last one was almost perfect. High, perky tits, a round ass that was made for slapping. Hair long enough to fall over me as she rode my cock. But she was young.
Too young.
She looked to be about twenty years old.
I was forty. Old enough to be her damn father.
The young man behind the bar cleared his throat. I looked up, and he said, “Hello, sir. My name’s Brian. Can I get you anything?”