We can end this, Dahlia.
No. Didn’t he understand there was no “we” in this situation? There had never been a “we” when it came to them. There was only her, always only her. She’d been alone her entire life. Even when she was married, she’d felt adrift on her own little island—cut off from her peers, who were all going to college, floating along the outermost ring of the Bellisario family, who never quite accepted her as one of their own. Always alone. A few rounds of good sex and some tender words from Vaughn weren’t going to change that.
Another exit passed. She still didn’t slow down. There were plenty more.
She was the only one who could end this—she knew it, but she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t brave enough. She wasn’t a skilled warrior like Vaughn, with heroism pumping through her veins instead of blood. Despite everything, she was still nothing more than that selfish seventeen-year-old girl, so alone and desperate to be loved.
You just need to trust me.
The look of anguish in Vaughn’s eyes, the stark betrayal as she held the gun on him…she didn’t think she’d ever forget how horrible she’d felt in that instant. It had hurt like a knife twisting in her belly. It still hurt, as if she’d not only left the knife in place, but had shoved it deeper.
It was better this way. Vaughn would rescue his brother—of that, she had no doubt. But if she stayed, if she got involved, Cam would die. Vaughn would die. Once Giuseppe had her, he wasn’t going to let the twins walk away from this. It would end in bloodshed for everyone.
Another two exits, gone.
God, she was such a coward.
She’d told Vaughn she was tired of running, but here she was running again, hard and fast with her tail tucked firmly between her legs.
Atlanta was in her rearview mirror, and she was starting to see signs for Charlotte. Beyond Charlotte would be Richmond. Then Washington, DC, where Vaughn would be negotiating for his brother’s life without her as a bargaining chip.
Oh, shit.
Sick to her stomach, she slowed the car to the shoulder of the highway in front of an “emergency stopping only” sign and switched on her blinkers. She sat there for a long moment, letting tears fall as she gathered her courage.
She could do this. She had to do this.
For Vaughn. It might end in bloodshed, but if it did, she couldn’t leave him to face it alone.
With a shaking hand, she reset the GPS to take her to DC.
Chapter Seventeen
Vaughn arrived back in DC exhausted, aching from head to toe, and heartsick—but in record time thanks to Marcus. And he wasn’t at all surprised to see the man waiting for him on the tarmac as he descended the steps of the private jet that had picked him up at a small airport outside of Atlanta.
“Nice jet.” Vaughn tried for a smile. It felt like a lie, though, so he gave up on it.
“Not mine,” Marcus said. “The money working for HORNET is good, but not that good.”
“Tucker Quentin’s?”
“Who else?”
Vaughn nodded. If there was a pile of shit, the billionaire who had formed HORNET and who now funded Wilde Security had no problem jumping knee-deep into it. He often wondered if Quentin got off on danger. Why else would the man stay in the shadowy world of mercs and dirty wars? If Vaughn was worth billions, he sure as fuck wouldn’t be running around playing mercenary.
Or, no, that was probably a lie. He could see the appeal since he got off on danger, too—just not the kind of danger that hurt his brothers. And he was an ass for mentally bashing the guy who had provided him transpo back to DC.
“You look like shit,” Marcus said as they walked toward a car waiting by the hangar. “You okay?”
“One of the most brutal mafia bosses in recent history is holding my brother hostage. You think I’m okay?”
“Yeah, stupid question.” Marcus winced and opened the driver’s side door, but he paused before climbing in and gazed out over the top of the car. “But, Vaughn?” His expression turned as serious as Vaughn had ever seen it. Marcus was usually a joker, a laid-back, go-with-the-flow type of guy with an affinity for fedoras and an inclination toward surfer-speak—but in that moment, Vaughn saw a core of steel, the warrior he hid so well behind a panty-dropping smile. “We’re going to take Bellisario down.”
Vaughn studied him. “You have history.”
He shook his head slightly and climbed into the car. “You could say that.”