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She wouldn’t do that to me.

Not my Keychain.

Not myHope…

"That's where she is tonight," Annabelle urged, placing the laptop back onto my lap and opening the lid back up. "Why she ran out of here so fast… she's withhim!"

She clicked on the nameLuckyand a stream of text messages and picture messages dating back to over fourteen months ago filled my vision.

Like a glutton for punishment, I forced myself to read every damn one.

****

Chapter Three

Hope

Blood.

Death.

Pain.

Three words that meant more to me now in this moment than ever before.

The smell was all around me as I stood in the middle of a crime scene with my lover's arms wrapped around me.

My lover, the killer.

My protector.

He stood tall, strong, and the embodiment of masculine virility, looking at me like I might run at any minute.

Like what he had done in this kitchen had somehow changed my feelings for him.

Ithad.

Whatever I had once felt for the man was unequivocallydeepernow.

The love I had for him had multiplied beyond epic proportions.

He was trying to leave me – trying to take himself away from me. That was all I could see, all I could hear, and I refused to allow that to happen.

My heart, broken and battered as it was, refused to sit back and watch this man leave my life. Not when it was suddenly clear to me what a pivotal role he played in it.

He would do it.

I had no doubt about that.

The man was willing to hand himself into the cops.

Because he thought it would keep me safe.

I wasnotgoing to let that happen.

Handcuffs and orange jumpsuits.

That was all I could see.

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