“I’m sorry, Paul, but… I really don’t give a shit what you need.”
“How can you say that?” he asks, an edge of anguish in his tone. “Don’t I get any points for checking in on you?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you get my gifts? My messages? All the flowers? I’ve been trying to make things right! You just need to give me a chance.”
“Don’t tell me what I need. I don’t need anything from you except for you to leave.Now. Before I have a change of heart and call the nice FBI agents in to arrest you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh, I think I would.”
“If you do that, I’m as good as dead. These men who are after me aren’t screwing around. If I’m in custody, it’ll only make it easier for them to get to me.”
“That’s not my responsibility, Paul. Maybe if you’d told me you’d been fired… or given me a warning about the freakingRussian mobstersyou’ve gotten in bed with… I’d be slightly more inclined to help you.”
Or not.
But he doesn’t need to know that.
“You haven’t taken my calls in months! How was I supposed to tell you about this? Huh?”
“Oh, give it a rest.” I shake my head. “You’ve been lying about this foryears, not months. Long before I cut off communication. Everything you say is a lie, Paul.”
“That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it, though?” I hold up a hand and start ticking off a list on my fingers. “You lied about getting fired from your job. You lied about the fact that you’ve been working for your uncle. You lied about the fact that you evenhavean uncle. You lied about your family background, your childhood home, even your given name.” I sigh deeply, wondering how I could’ve been so blind as to trust this charlatan for so many years. “Tell me, Paul — was anything you told me in our decade together actually true? Or was our marriage just another facet of your elaborate fabrications?”
“You’ve got it all twisted,” he says, voice plaintive. “I never meant to drag you into any of this. You, this house, our marriage… it’s all I have left.Youare the one good thing I have left.”
“Except you don’t have me anymore,” I tell him plainly. “You lost me a long time ago.”
“Don’t say that!” Expression clouding over with anger quicker than a summer storm, he advances on me. I backpedal until I hit the opposite wall, heart pounding in my chest as I watch the distance between us shrinking rapidly.
“It’s time for you to leave, Paul.Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, coming closer. “I told you, I’m going to make this right with my uncle and then it’ll be like it was before.Betterthan before.”
“No, Paul—”
“Don’t say no! Just listen…” The distance disappears — five, four, three, two, one foot remaining — and then he’s right there, reaching for me. Reaching for me like he has so many times before, every time I mouthed off or questioned his authority or challenged him on something. Every time I tried to push back against his controlling behavior and condescension.
I know I should be running, screaming, doingsomethingother than merely standing here like a statue. But I’m strangely paralyzed as I watch him closing in. The rage on his face is as familiar as the feel of the back of his hand and I brace for it, already anticipating the sting of his fingers closing around my throat…
It never comes.
There’s a sickening thud as Paul falls to the ground, clutching his nose — which is gushing blood in a bright torrent. It happens so fast, I barely see the fist that flies seemingly out of nowhere and clips him squarely in the face. One minute he’s standing there, the next he’s on the ground moaning.
My wide eyes lift to Conor, who’s looming in front of me like a human shield. The knuckles of his right hand are red, even in the darkness. The expression on his face can only be described as wrath.
Pure, undiluted wrath.
“Paul, I presume,” he snarls, staring down at the pathetic heap that is my husband. “Please. Don’t get up on my account.”
Chapter Eight
NECESSARY ROUGHNESS