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I wanted a normal, quiet life.

I'd been through the wringer and I was tired.

I needed peace and quiet.

Of coursea man like Lucky Casarazzi appealed to her.

That kind of scum appealed to most women.

He was the opposite of everything she'd ever known.

Wayward, tattooed and drenched in dirty blood.

He was dangerous and a risk and tempting her away from everything she had ever known.

Blackened with the pain of betrayal, only one thought kept me sane: revenge.

I knew it was too good to be true.

Everything was going too smoothly.

And now I was done.

It was too fucking much.

Because in all honesty, what was the point in fighting for my life when this was the result?

What was the point of anything?

To my fucking detriment, there were only two things jumping out at me.

Two ways to ease the pain.

To help me forget.

Even if it was only for a little while.

God forgive me, I chose the latter.

"I need to go," I choked out. Leaping off the couch, I grabbed blindly for my keys then staggered towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Annabelle demanded, chasing after me.

"Out!" I barked, needing to get away from her. From this house. From all of it.

"Jordan, don’t go," she called after me, following me out the front door and into the street.

"Leave me be." Kicking off the stand, I sank down on my bike and cranked the engine. "Just…stoptalking to me…"

"Don’t do anything stupid, Jordan!" Annabelle yelled out as I tore off down the street with only one destination in mind.

Thirteenth Street.

****

Chapter Five

Hope

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