She knelt over him, shocks of brown hair tangling around her arms, the curve of her body taunting him. What he wouldn’t give to feel her tight, reluctant cunt gripping his cock one more time. But she loved another man.
His ribs squeezed against the swell of rejection. She’d actually pulled the trigger. How could she think he was going to kill her? Didn’t she know he’d die without her?
Dots blotted his vision. From the blood loss? Or was it the tremor of ice-cold fear passing through him? Hard to deny that he’d earned her distrust, kidnapping her when she was seventeen, taking her virginity without asking, and blackmailing her into delivering slaves for Mr. E.
Despite all that, every second at her side had nurtured Van’s stupid-as-shit hope that she’d grow to love him. A hope that slipped through his grasp the night she abducted Joshua Carter against her will. She’d fallen in love with her newest slave, and that betrayal hurt worse than the lead buried in his shoulder.
But the blow that turned him against Mr. E’s operation came six days ago. Van had sent her to meet with a slave buyer. There was a disagreement, and the buyer brutally raped her.
Renewed rage boiled in his gut. If he’d gone with her, he could’ve protected her. Sweat beaded on his lip. What was he thinking? He couldn’t even protect her from himself.
He stared into the gorgeous, watery eyes of his first captive as her fingers caressed his jaw. He’d beaten and fucked her into submission and failed to stop Mr. E from killing her mother. Still she cried for him. His breath hitched. He loved her suffering in a way he couldn’t rationally understand.
When he’d gone after her rapist, it hadn’t been some chivalrous act of heroism. He’d fucking reveled in the dismemberment of limbs, the flaying of skin, and the gurgled screams of a man as atrocious as he himself. With the stain of his first kill dripping from his hands, he’d put his exit plan in motion. One that would free them from Mr. E’s operation and bind them together. A family.
But her pretty boy was a menacing blockade to his plan. Joshua hovered behind her, his ridiculous linebacker brawn flexing to finish the job if the bullet failed. Despite the boy’s apparent willingness to sacrifice his life for her, he couldn’t protect her from their boss.
Was she still trying to wrap her mind around everything she’d just learned? Her face had blanched a chilling shade of white when he’d told her Mr. E was not only his father but also the police chief of Austin. And he hadn’t disclosed the worst of it.
His pulse weakened, and his breathing thrashed. He needed to get the bullet out. If he survived, it would take days to recover. Days he and Liv didn’t have.
“Have to kill him.” He blinked through fading flashes of light. “He’ll avenge me.” Now that she knew Mr. E’s identity, he was certain she’d hunt down their boss and finish the job, but she needed motivation to do it quickly. “He’ll kill Livana.” If Mr. E hadn’t killed her already. His throat tightened, choking his breaths.
“Livana?”
The angelic quality of her voice and the shape of her lips forming their daughter’s name for the first time produced a wet burn in the corners of his eyes. There was so much he needed to tell her.
The flat line of her mouth wobbled. “Mattie’s real name is Livana?”
He lifted his chin, attempting a nod. Beyond the infrequent video footage of their daughter, they’d never been allowed to see her. Liv didn’t know where she lived, didn’t even know her real name. For six years, she’d heartbreakingly referred to her as Mattie.
A helpless, foreign feeling stabbed his chest from the inside, over and over, pulling him further into darkness. Killing Mr. E meant he could finally meet their daughter. He was so damned close. He would not die.
Shivers wracked his body, and Liv’s features vanished behind a veil of black.
“Van? Where’s Livana?”
“She’s...” He forced his eyes open. The outline of her face seemed so far away, yet he could make out her slim brown eyebrows as they formed a sharp V. He reached for her cheek, his fingers tingling, numb.
She leaned in to meet his hand, her eyes swimming in tears. “Van.” Her voice rasped, and the tears fell over, splattering his chin. “What’s Livana’s last name?”
She needed a name to find their daughter, but she wouldn’t have to look far. His fingers fumbled over her scar. From her eye to her lips, the seven-year-old laceration mirrored his own. Even now, he didn’t regret the actions that had led to their matching punishments. Her pregnancy had given him immeasurable relief, a means to ensure she wouldn’t be sold as a slave. She belonged to him, his greatest accomplishment.
The pain in his shoulder jolted deep into his bones as he traced her lips and lingered on her jaw, dreading the answer he’d kept from her for so long. He’d had no say in who raised Livana, but he’d controlled Liv by withholding Livana’s name and whereabouts. He didn’t carry Mr. E’s last name, but his daughter did. Liv might very well shoot him again when she learned Mr. E had been raising Livana since birth.
He opened his mouth and strangled on the words. Pinpricks assaulted his body. His vision blurred. He clung to the edge of consciousness as the muscles in his arm shook and gave up. His hand hit the floor.
“Nooo.” She scrambled atop him, fingers trembling over his face. “No, Van. No, don’t go,” she screamed.
Wails bellowed from her throat. Such an outpour of emotion from a woman who always remained guarded behind a stone-cold mask. Her anguish filled him with warmth, pumping his heart. She cared. He tried to open his eyes and failed. His body grew heavy, struggling against the leaden weight of gravity. But that was okay. She thought he was dead and fucking
