Page 109 of Ruthless Regret

"What do you think about the memory recovery idea?"

"I think it could be useful as a last resort. But it's your choice. I won't force you into anything."

"I'll think about it. Do you think we will be able to figure out who the man with the burned hand is?"

Zain nods, pulling out his phone. "I'll text Rook, see what he can dig up."

While Zain texts his friend, I think about all the things we’ve discovered so far. The burned hand, the pregnancy, my buried memories. It’s all connected, it has to be.

"Hey," Zain's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I manage a small smile. “I’m going to make a drink. Do you want one?”

He nods, and I stand up to go into the kitchen, my mind full of questions.

Who was the man with the burned hand? Why did he ask about me? What did he know about Louisa that we didn’t?

"Rook’s looking into it," Zain says from the doorway, making me jump.

I nod, grateful for something concrete. "Good. That's ... good."

I finish making our drinks and turn. He takes a mug from me, and sets it down on the table, then turns back to me.

I lean against the counter and take a sip of tea. His eyes drop to my lips, and my pulse spikes.

He steps closer, and runs his fingers down my arm. “Put your drink down.”

As soon as I place it on the countertop, his lips crash down on mine.

His hand grips the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer, erasing the space between us. There’snothing gentle about the kiss—no hesitancy, no questions. It’s raw, desperate, and all-consuming.

I kiss him back, and my hands find their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath my fingers. He groans against my lips, and the sound sends heat through me.

When he lifts his head, I stare up at him, too breathless to speak. His eyes are dark and intense as they bore into mine.

"I’m not done with you, Firecracker."

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

ZAIN

My mom'srevelation about the man with the burned hand should be the only thing on my mind right now. Yet I can't focus on that, because Ashley is sitting across the room, and every time she moves, the memory of how her skin felt under my hands last night fills my head.

I try to ignore the relief that courses through me when Mom finally stands and announces she’s leaving. She pauses on the walk to the door, and her soft warning to Ashley about being careful catches my attention. There’s something in her tone—concern, maybe even a hint of acceptance. It’s more than I expected, given everything that happened. For fourteen years she’s blamed Ashley as much as I have for destroying my life. Now she’s warning her to be careful. Warning us both.

The shift in her attitude should make me happy, but instead it just adds to the confusion of my own feelings about Ashley. Everything I thought I knew, everything I planned. It’s all unraveled. The revenge that drove me for so long discarded, not completely willingly, because of the woman seated on the couch.

After Mom leaves, I text Rook, letting him know about the new information. It’s automatic, mechanical. A task to keep my hands busy while my mind circles back to Ashley. To the way shelooked this morning, all sleep-rumpled and soft. To how badly I wanted to stay in that bed with her.

To how right it felt waking up beside her.

And it scares the shit out of me.

That was why I left her alone, why I told her I didn’t want to talk about what happened. I need to sort it out in my head, before I can even consider talking to her about it.

Rook replies with an affirmative, saying he’ll forward the information to Knight, and I look up from my cell to tell Ashley. She’s still sitting on the couch, and the expression on her face sends a rush of …something… through me. Her expression seems sad, her eyes unfocused as she stares straight ahead of herself. And I can’t stop myself from speaking.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

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