“Let go of me.” She fought in my grasp.
“Not until you listen. While you were busy crying into my chest. And holding my shoulders like you couldn’t get close enough. Then falling asleep in my arms like it was the only place you ever fucking belonged.” I gripped the back of her hair and tipped her head back, leaning in close as I added, “Which it fucking is.”
The fight left her. Her body sagging in my arms, even as her eyes flashed wide.
Trailing my thumb back and forth over her cheek, I finished with, “I got some information from the cops. I’m not here to fight with you, so calm down, share a meal and a much-needed glass of wine with me, and let me fill you in.”
“Roman,” she exhaled, her eyes flooding with tears.
I wasn’t sure what part of that had softened her—or I would have repeated it.
Again.
And again.
And maybe a hundred times after that.
Because, with just the sound of my name, she gave me my innocent angel back.
And it was that moment when I realized it had been a God’s-honest miracle I’d been able to breathe a single breath in the two years I’d lived without her.
It was also then that I decided those days were done.
“You know we could be civil to each other.” I smiled. It was only a half lie. Because there was nothing civil about the things I wanted to do to her.
She would, however, enjoy them all.
“Fine. Fill me in. Eat your gyro, but then you have to leave. I seriously can’t do this with you tonight.”
My hand flexed on her back as I dropped my lips to her ear and murmured, “No. Then I’m sleeping on your couch.”
“Roman!” she objected just as there was a knock at the door.
I kissed the top of her head and released her. “Dinner’s here. Get out the plates.”
She complained behind me as I sauntered to the front door before pulling it wide.
Only it wasn’t Seth on the other side.
Walter had been gone when I’d woken up.
Like I did every time he walked out our front door, I’d prayed that he wouldn’t come home. Accidents happened. And, in his line of work, people died every day.
But I was never that lucky.
Walter Noir would crawl a million miles through broken glass, bleeding and dying, just to make sure he took me to Hell with him.
I’d put on my workout clothes and packed my bag first thing that morning, strategically placing it on the table closest to the door, along with my water bottle and my car keys. Then I’d gone about my day, playing with my daughter while simultaneously listening for his car to pull through the iron gates of my prison.
Around five, I heard the rumble of his BMW, so I rushed to the bag, threw it over my shoulder, grabbed Tessa off the floor, and darted out the door.
He wasn’t happy that I was leaving just as he was getting home, but it wasn’t as if I’d planned it that way. Or so I swore as he kissed me goodbye before I made my getaway to the gym.
Tessa was tired, so was I, but I had two hours of quasi-freedom ahead of me.
Two hours he wouldn’t be around Tessa, and by the time we got home, I could feed her dinner, give her a bath, and put her straight to bed. Minimal contact was the best I could hope for when it came to Walt.
A rush of relief washed over me as I pulled into a parking spot at the gym. I slowly climbed from the car, my ribs only protesting mildly, a huge step up from the day before. My injuries were still visible, but they were thankfully starting to heal. The real agony was in the memories—and my reality.
I was unbuckling Tessa from her car seat when I heard a man call my name. I turned and found two uniformed police officers closing in on me. Panic slammed into me like a runaway truck.
In my life, the police were the only entity more frightening than Walt.
Walt could kill me, but cops could take my life by locking me away, leaving Tessa alone in the care of a monster.
I spun away with shaking hands, scrambling to get Tessa out of her seat.
“Mrs. Noir,” one of them called as I collected her bag off the floor and sped toward the gym door. “Mrs. Noir,” he repeated more firmly before a hand on my bicep suddenly halted me. “Mrs. Noir, a word?”
Doing my best to keep the tremor out of my voice, I replied, “I’m sorry. I don’t have time.” I pulled my arm from his grasp and started away.
I came to a sharp stop when the young officer smiled and reached out his hand as though he were about to touch her.
“This must be Tessa.”
My soul caught fire.
The panic was gone in a blink, and a feral blaze overwhelmed me. Instinctively shifting her to my other hip, I twisted so my body was between her and the officer, blocking any possible contact.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” I spat.
“Jesus, Marco. Don’t touch the baby,” a different man scolded from behind him.
I glanced up to see an older man prowling up behind the uniforms. Salt-and-pepper hair. Potbelly. Shiny, gold badge showing from underneath his sports coat.
Fuck.