Page 61 of Vengeful Sins

Slowly, his words sink in. And he’s right, this doesn’t sound like Maya. Or is that only what I want to believe? “No, she gotspooked, and she ran. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”

“Just the same, I think it would be a good idea to see her face-to-face and make sure there’s nothing wrong.” A shadow passes over his face before he adds, “I know I would sleep a lot better if I knew for sure, too.”

I’m too fucked up to know whether this is a good idea or not by the time I get in Dad’s car and strap myself into the passenger seat. I feel like I’m moving through Jell-O, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

How could she? Then again, did she do anything? Is this all a trick? I want to believe it is. I want it with all of me, so much so I find myself willing it silently. Don’t let it be true. Whatever it is, we can get through it, so long as she’s still with me. I can’t let her go now. I refuse to. Not after everything we’ve shared. Not after everything she makes me feel and want. She can’t open my eyes to this new life, then walk away like it doesn’t matter.

Along the way, Dad places a call. “Dial Paul,” he barks after pulling up his phone on the car’s Bluetooth. He answers right away, and Dad briefly explains what we’re doing while we speed through town. “I’m going over to the house now,” he announces. “Something about this doesn’t add up.”

“I’m five minutes away from there,” Paul confirms. “I’ll meet you.”

Slowly but surely, dread starts to replace the rage pulsing through my body a little faster all the time. “Dad, do you think…”

“I’m not sure what to think yet,” he reminds me, before his foot presses a little harder on the gas pedal. “This is only a precaution.”

But what if he’s right? What if this is all her dad and not her? And there I was, wasting time when I could’ve been helping. I don’t know what to think. I only know nothing matters as much as getting there quickly—and hoping we’re not too late.

Paul pulls up the curb at almost the same time we do, and he looks pretty damn troubled when he meets us at the end of the driveway.

“And his is gone,” Paul concludes, his voice tight. He beats us to the front door, where he rings the bell once, twice, while I cup my hands around my eyes to peer through the window.

“It looks empty,” I confirm while my heart bangs harder than ever against my ribs.

“Exactly what did she say in that message—if it came from her in the first place?” Paul asks. I hand over the phone, my hand trembling, cursing myself for not having more faith in her. Now that I think about it, it’s obvious she wouldn’t type something like that. Like Dad said, it sounds too formal. Like a stranger wrote it.

“Clark? She’s talking about Clark Miller?” Paul looks back-and-forth between Dad and me while his eyes narrow and his face flushes. “Clark Miller is one of the partners in this whole Ponzi scheme. And Maya said she’s going to marry him?”

I don’t blame him for his disbelief, because I can’t believe it, either.

“Do you know where he lives?” I ask when what I really want to do is take him and shake him and make him tell me everything I need to know. She needs us, and it might be too late already. I don’t want to believe that, but too much time has passed. Anything could’ve happened.

28

MAYA

Itry my best to sit up in the chair and clear my mind, but the drugs in my system keep me loopy and weak. My head is foggy, and my limbs useless. Looking around the room, I search for a way out, or maybe a weapon I can use to defend myself. Unfortunately, there is nothing here but two grown men who won’t let me leave.

“Stop crying already,” my father snaps. “You are being dramatic. All you have to do is marry Clark and be a good wife to him,” he says like it’s no big deal that he is dictating my whole life.

More tears run down my cheek as my chest aches for Tucker. I didn’t even realize how much he means to me until now. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way I fell for him…I fell for my bully, and now it’s too late. I probably won’t ever have a chance to tell him how I feel.

“Here it is,” Clark shoves a piece of paper onto the table in front of me.

I look down, barely able to read the header of the Marriage Certificate through my blurry vision.

“Sign,” Clark orders, handing me a silver pen.

His hand hovers inches from my chest. I glare at it but don’t make a move to take it.

“Come on,” my father huffs before coming around to stand next to me.

He takes the pen from Clark and grabs my hand. He wraps my fingers around the pen and covers my hand with his before guiding the tip of the pen to the paper. He forces me to write my name, and I watch in horror as my signature appears on the dotted line.

This can’t be legally binding. There is no way.

“There you go,” my father says. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He drops my hand, and my arm falls down beside me.

Clark takes the pen back and signs his name next to mine. “That’s it. We are legally married,” he cheers, and my heart sinks.

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