That's when the worry hit me like a slap in the face.

"Yes, Finnley. We are safe. For tonight, at least," I said.

His head shot up and he stared at me. "Did you notice the scar on his cheek? The one that runs down his eyelid almost to his chin?"

I nodded.

"I gave that to him ten years ago. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I don't follow orders from other people very well, especially for things I don't agree with. I have a conscience. I have morals. I could have been like Abbot, and if I hadn't left London when I did, I would have been Abbot. Even though I was in the States, trouble seemed to follow me, and hanging with the wrong crowd when I arrived didn't help. I had a lot of growing up to do when I came here. I learned a lot of hard lessons. I did regrettable things. I was fearless. But it seems that my past continues to haunt me, while Jesse tries to ruin my future."

"I don't want any lies. I want to know everything. You want me as your wife, and there is so much about you that I don't know," I said.

"Do you trust me?" His words were few, but they held so much behind them.

"Yes."

"But do you? Do you really trust me? No matter what?"

"That's not fair to ask of me, Finnley. But I can tell you this. Love holds no bounds. It's not like if you told me you've done something horrible that my heart will instantly stop loving you. Of all people, you should know that love doesn't work that way."

The room was so quiet I could hear the wind brushing against the window, creating a low howl in the night.

"I've had too much to drink. I'm saying stupid things," he said.

"A drunk man's truths are a sober man's lies."

"I shouldn't have drunk so much at the club. I shouldn't have had those f.u.c.king shots."

Finnley fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. Then he began to speak, "When my wife died, I didn't think I could ever go on without her. She was my world, my everything; all I could see was her and me, and me and her. We are never guaranteed another day. Tomorrow may never come for either of us." He turned his head and looked at me.

I had moved to the window and was staring out into the darkness. I watched him in the reflection, then turned to him.

He looked at me with everything he was, seeing everything I was. "When I found you, it was like someone had lit a match inside me, temporarily pushing away the darkness and loneliness that had taken over. I never expected to feel that again. Sometimes it scares the s.h.i.t out of me, because you're so easy to love. Love isn't easy, though. It's tough. We both know that. There will be things about me that you won't like. I've watched horrible things happen to people, people who deserved it, and some who didn't. Abbot . . . he brought us to the lion's den. You do realize that, don't you?"

"He was trying to protect us," I reminded him.

A broken laugh fell from Finnley's mouth. "Baxtor tried to steal my wife from me. I never forgave him. He is the type of man who takes what he wants, whether a woman wears a ring or not."

All the pieces seemed to fall into place. His anger and hatred stemmed from his past. Finnley would go to the extreme for me, and I'm sure not much had changed. Love made people say and do stupid things, even violent things, and the heart never forgot. A ten-year-old grudge made sense.

I moved to the edge of the bed and placed my hand on his upper thigh. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down beside him. Gently, I ran my fingers through his hair, and soon we were closing our eyes and kissing, the types of kisses that stemmed from pain and hurt, and I wanted to take it all away from him. We were two broken people, hoping our shattered pieces could mend and create some sort of happiness. Finnley held me tightly in his arms until we fell asleep. Today had been long and stressful, and I was more than happy to forget it had ever happened.

FINNLEY.

Twelve.

I woke to the sound of revving motorcycles and hard pounding on the door. Jennifer and I shot out of bed, neither of us ever having fallen into that realm of sleep where rest existed. For a moment, I was disoriented, and it took me a few seconds to realize I was at the compound. My head pounded like someone had hammered nails into my skull.

"Who is it?" I asked, walking to the door. My throat was dry, and I would have done anything for a gla.s.s of cold water.

"Abbot."

I unlocked the door, and Abbot slipped inside the room. Jennifer looked out the window. When I glanced over, I could see the taillights of the motorcycles traveling fast down the dirt road. The party must have ended.

"The cops are here. We need to get the f.u.c.k out while we can. They are making arrests, and the last thing either of you need is to be linked to any of this," Abbot said. He locked the door, then moved across the room, past Jennifer, and opened the window. "Out." He pointed.

Jennifer turned and looked at me like Abbot had lost his mind, and for a moment, I thought he had.

"Get the f.u.c.k out, now. I'm going to wait a few minutes, unlock the door, and follow you. I've got keys to a few motorcycles in the garage."

I shot him a scowl, and he gave me one of those I-can't-help-it looks.

I crawled out the window behind Jennifer. The roof, for the most part, was flat, so we ducked around the corner and waited for Abbot to follow. After a few minutes, he did as promised. We walked around the house until we found a side that had very few windows, and we waited. Abbot peeked around the corner and kept watch. Sounds of crashing furniture and m.u.f.fled yelling echoed through the house. Jennifer and I pressed our backs against the adobe walls and watched the sun rise over the treetops. She rested her head under my chin and wrapped her arms around my waist. My head pounded with the beat of my heart.

Abbot whistled and waved us over. We followed him back into the bedroom. The dresser had been tipped over and clothes had been thrown from the closet onto the floor. The pictures of motorcycles had been ripped from the walls.

Abbot poked his head out of the room and quickly looked around. "Let's go," Abbot said, and we followed him down the creaking stairs. The entire house had been turned upside down. Abbot threw me a pair of keys, and we made our way to the garage.

"Felton," a familiar voice said. My blood seemed to pump faster upon hearing the rasp of Baxtor's voice. The man had no soul, no regret, and didn't feel remorse for anything. All he knew was revenge. I slowly turned and looked into dangerous, dark eyes.

"Jesse. I'm going to find that b.i.t.c.h and kill her myself," he growled.

I narrowed my eyes at him, confused.

"She caused this s.h.i.t. Planted cocaine on one of my boys. The cops jumped at the chance of finding drugs at the compound. That c.u.n.t b.i.t.c.h. I'm going to track her down and skin her alive."

Jennifer's eyes widened.

"I'll find her first," Abbot said.

"She's a dead b.i.t.c.h walking," Baxtor said. "Dead. b.i.t.c.h. Walking. Don't take the bikes. Your car is here." He reached into his pocket and handed me the keys. I looked down at them, then up at him.

"Nothing like a common enemy to bring two people together. You aren't still holding that grudge, are you?" Baxtor taunted me.

I balled my hand into a fist. The pain from last night coursed up my arm as each one of my swollen knuckles cracked.

"My offer still stands, Jennifer," Baxtor said, and that was the last thing I remembered.

Anger swallowed me whole and spat me out. Then the next thing I knew, my fist was in the air and my knuckles were connecting with his face. All control was lost. He threw punches back, and somehow got his hands around my neck. I gasped for air, kicking and struggling to get free so I could continue unleashing my anger. Abbot pushed Baxtor off me.

We were heaving for air, both of us. Jennifer stood with her hands over her worried face, and when Baxtor and I went back in for round two, Abbot stood between us, yelling, "f.u.c.king stop it. This is enough. You both want the same thing."

I shook my head, knowing d.a.m.n well we weren't on the same team and our goals were on two different ends of the spectrum.

Baxtor spit on the floor, blood mixed with saliva. "You're a f.u.c.king psycho, Felton. Always have been. Always will be."

"You tend to bring out the worst in people, Bax. Always have, always will."

We moved around Abbot, determined to finish had been started years ago. I saw a flash of metal, and Abbot charged Baxtor, just fast enough to grab a fistful of hair and place the knife at his throat. Baxtor's mood soured as he stood completely still.

"You two need to call a truce. It's been over a f.u.c.king decade. Let's end this now," Abbot said.

Anger swirled in Baxtor's eyes. Was it possible I saw a hint of regret there as well? If so, it wasn't because he actually regretted trying to steal my wife, but regretted that Abbot had the upper hand. He couldn't escape this one. A grin snuck onto my face and I narrowed my eyes at him. His chest heaved with every careful breath he took. I glanced over at Abbot, knowing how skilled he was with a blade, knowing that he would kill Baxtor right here if I made the call.

I should do it.

I seriously contemplated it.

Time stood still.

"I knew you weren't like us. You never could finish people off. You were a p.u.s.s.y, no matter what anyone did to you, and I don't think you've changed at all in ten years," Baxtor said.

Abbot tightened his grip on Baxtor's hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not Finnley," Abbot said.

"True, very true," I said. "Why did you do it, Baxtor? Why did you try to steal the only woman I loved? Why did you tell her terrible things about me? f.u.c.king why?"

It was a stare-off.

"I wanted to know she was loyal to you. Loyalty helps keep relationships strong. If you can't trust them before you marry them, then why would you trust them afterwards? She loved you, Finnley. She would have never taken my offer." He hung his head low and truth flashed in his eyes as his shoulders slumped. Baxtor lived and killed over loyalty. I should have realized his tactics long ago. The man didn't show a sign of weakness, nor did he tell his truths. Part of me didn't understand why he would tell me now. Because it was the truth and time had pa.s.sed? The grudge had to stop now.

My insides felt like they were melting in on themselves. My heart was crushing. For years, I'd hated a man for nothing. I glanced over at Jennifer, then back at Abbot.

"Let him go," I said.

Abbot questioned me.

"Yes, let him go."

I felt like I was losing myself, losing everything I was. There were too many emotions streaming through me, which I hadn't felt in years. When Baxtor talked about Jackie, all I could remember was that feeling of loss from the day she died. Six years. Six long years, and still to this day, it pained me. With Jennifer, I was learning to be stronger, but losing someone was something that the heart never forgot.

Abbot let go of Baxtor, and I turned and walked away. I didn't want to look at him again. I wanted to forget it had all happened. My face stung from being punched by ringed fingers. If it weren't for feeling pain, maybe I wouldn't have felt anything at all.

Jennifer caught up to me and laced her fingers with mine.

"I'll find Jesse, Finnley," Baxtor yelled as we walked away. "I'm going to find her and make her my b.i.t.c.h."

JENNIFER.

Thirteen.

I had to see my parents' house and visit their graves before going back to Vegas. Finnley booked a last minute reservation at a hotel in Port Arthur. No penthouse suites awaited us, just the regular, two-star hotels that lined Highway 69. We drove through Baytown and down the boring road that was hugged by pastures of nothing. I always hated driving this way, but it was quicker than going around, so I didn't complain. Men on motorcycles followed us, and Abbot stayed close behind us. Would this be my life now? Would I always have an entourage?

The GPS said we would be there in less than ten minutes. Finnley placed his hand on my leg and squeezed. Everything would be fine, his touch a.s.sured, and I had no reason to believe otherwise. We turned down Pure Atlantic and made another turn until we were on the road that held my childhood home. A thick heaviness weighed on me as we turned onto the paved driveway and slowed up to the front of the house. Christmas lights still lined the porch, and lighted wreaths were neatly placed on every window. Finnley came around and opened my door, then grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs.

"It's going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay," he whispered.

We opened the door, and Mrs. Becky Hanley, the woman who had purchased my childhood home and had turned it into a bed and breakfast, greeted me with a huge grin and a hug. It felt good to be home.

"We made s.p.a.ce for you when we got the call from Finnley that you wanted to come home and see the house all decorated for Christmas. I'm happy you're here, hunny. It's good to see you back."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hanley. I appreciate you all being so accommodating to me and my fiance."

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she laid eyes on Finnley. I smuggled a little chuckle. He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. He was really bringing out the British charm. I couldn't help but admire the small things about him-the way he shot little side grins to older women, or how his hair sat messily on his head. He shot me a wink when he noticed I was staring, and all I could do was smile. Finnley was mine.

"I'd like to thank you again for making room for us, Mrs. Hanley. We have reservations already but would love to stay if it won't be too much of a ha.s.sle for you," he said, his voice thick and sweet like chocolate.

"Oh. Oh. It is no problem. I'm happy you're both here," she said quickly then handed us the key to our room. "You'll be staying in the old guest room."

The house looked like Christmas had exploded inside. Tinsel, white lights, mistletoe, and garland hugged the walls and stairs, and I loved it. Finnley squeezed my shoulder, then stepped outside and went straight to Abbot's car. The motorcycles lined the driveway. Mrs. Hanley peeked out the window then glanced back at her husband.

"You've got a parade following you, hun," she said.

My face flooded with heat, and I could only imagine what she thought of me at that moment. People didn't often have an entourage in Port Arthur.

I released a small chuckle. "Yeah, some of Finnley's friends insisted on giving us fanfare in celebration of our engagement," I said. What a stupid lie.

Finnley headed up the steps of the porch with our suitcases in tow. He met me at the stairs with a smile. I gave Mrs. Hanley a hug and thanked her again for allowing us to stay, and then we made our way up the stairs. The extra bedroom was the second door on the right. It was the spare room my parents had kept for visiting guests. I sucked in a deep breath and opened the door, expecting it to be exactly how I had left it, but that was wishful thinking. The room was completely different, down to the renewed wooden floors and vaulted ceilings with recessed lighting. The walls were a cream yellow and gave just enough brightness to remind me of the flowers that grew in the pastures during spring. This was home, and though it didn't look the same, I had missed it. My breath was unsteady. The ache in my heart slowly faded and was replaced with a sliver of happiness. I was here, and I would enjoy it while I could.

Finnley leaned our suitcases against the wall and slowly shut the door.

"I'm going to meet with Abbie while I'm here," I said, knowing that it was something that I had to do. It was hard not calling her on Christmas. It had been hard not having her in my life. It was time to make amends, no matter the mistakes she had made. Images of her and Finnley flashed through my mind but I pushed them away. Time healed wounds, and if I could forgive the person who had killed my parents, I could forgive her lapse of judgment. She was my best friend and the closet thing to family I had left.

"I think it's a good idea." Finnley placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, releasing the built up tension.

We both stood there, not saying a word. Sometimes talking wasn't necessary. Sometimes words didn't need to be said. I walked to the window and looked out. The pastures seemed to go on for miles. The crispy flat gra.s.s was still greener than anything in Vegas. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Abbie's number. I dreaded making the call, but it had to be done. No more dodging. She didn't answer, so I left a message and hoped she would call me back.

After a few seconds, she did. "Jenn, babe, is that you?"

"I'm home. Can we meet for coffee like old times?"

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything is fine. I just want to get together with you. I leave tomorrow, and there are things I need to talk about. I need to see you in person. None of this phone bulls.h.i.t," I said.

"Okay. Yeah. Sure. No problem. I'll meet you. Now?"