Page 68 of Inked Persuasion

And then Hotch put something over my mouth, and I tried to scream. Only nothing came out, and my brain went fuzzy. The last thought I had was about the odd smell.

And then there was nothing.

Chapter 20

Jacob

Ineeded to get to the office before Annabelle left for the day. I knew she probably had a couple of hours yet at the drawing board unless she was onsite. I should have called her, should have waited until she came home so we could talk at her place. Only I couldn’t wait.

And I couldn’t even say that it had been a night’s sleep that had finally cleared the cobwebs.

No, I had known that I had made a mistake as soon as she left my home, leaving me standing there as if I had just lost everything. And the problem was, I had.

I was such a fucking idiot when it came to Annabelle. I deserved anything that came to me. I shouldn’t have lashed out. Shouldn’t have pushed her away because I was scared.

I didn’t know how I felt about Annabelle but watching her walk away like that, so good at hiding her pain, I knew I would never forgive myself.

I had said some cruel things to her in the past, had allowed my fear and grief of losing my brother, of losing that time and control had twisted together inside me. I ended up hurting her. I knew I was still trying to earn forgiveness for that. And now I’d added more to it by being the asshole I was.

I did not deserve her forgiveness. Did not deserve Annabelle, period. But I was damn well going to try. I didn’t know what I would ultimately do when it came to her, nor did I know what should be done. But hurting her like that had been cruel, and she deserved better. So, I would try to figure out how to accomplish that.

Even if it meant going into a place where her brothers and family were and prostrating myself at her feet. She deserved that. And more. Did I love her? I wasn’t sure. Everything felt so different than it had when I was with Susan. And yet, had I loved Susan the way I should have? That was the problem, wasn’t it? If I had to question it, maybe I hadn’t.

I wasn’t good at tasting the emotions that I was supposed to have—putting names to everything I was feeling. I was good at making plans and following through. And putting one foot in front of the other to fight for what I believed in.

That didn’t mean I knew what I felt.

I let out a breath and turned down the street to where the Montgomery Builders offices were located. I didn’t know if she would forgive me, but I at least needed to apologize. I had to try. There didn’t seem to be anybody in the parking lot as I pulled in, and then my heart burst as I noticed the two cars left.

Annabelle’s car, and another one, a very familiar sedan, crashed into the side of Annabelle’s.

“Fuck,” I muttered, and turned sharply, the sound of burning rubber loud as I nearly went on two wheels to get into the parking lot. I left the car running, barely remembered to put it into park and jumped out of my vehicle.

“Annabelle! Annabelle!”

I tried my best not to think about whose car was right in front of me. The one that had smashed into the driver’s side of Annabelle’s. The door was closed, and I couldn’t see Annabelle anywhere.

“Annabelle!”

“Jacob?” a soft voice said from behind me, the voice filled with fear.

I clenched my fists and turned to face my ex-wife, who sat in her car, blood pouring out of a cut on her forehead, the airbag now deflated. There was glass all over the ground, and she looked to be in pain, but I wasn’t sure where else she might be hurt.

But why the fuck was my ex-wife in this parking lot? Why had she hit Annabelle’s car?

And where was Annabelle?

“What did you do?” I growled before I went to my knees beside her. She had another gash on her leg, and her knee was swelling. I cursed. “What happened?” I rasped.

“I got caught up in it. I didn’t mean to. I was just supposed to scare her. Or get her to him. I don’t remember.”

My blood chilled. “Explain to me what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Another car pulled in beside me, its tires screeching, and then Beckett was shouting, another voice joining his.

“Annabelle!” Beckett yelled.

“I’m calling 911,” the other voice said, and I finally recognized it as Clay’s.

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