Page 96 of Addicted Lies

“Among other things,” I reply dryly. His gaze slides to me, and that lethal edge is so close to snapping, but I won’t stand down on this, even if I’m chained to a hospital bed.

For once, I want something for myself. And I’ll get it even if I have to chase after her time and time again.

Dutton stares at me for some time, licking his lips as his knuckles turn white from how tightly clenched his fists are. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

“Obviously,” I say.

“And I’m not happy about it.”

“Clearly.”

He licks his lips again. “And she’s the only woman you’ll ever be with for the rest of your life,” he warns.

“Always.” I feel that truth in my bones. In my heart. I will always give her all of me, even when she doesn’t want even a portion. Billie’s my addiction, but she’s also my woman. And I will fight heaven and hell to be by her side.

Dutton’s teeth are grinding as he curtly nods, then turns to walk out.

“Wait. Are we good?” Hawke asks, shocked.

Dutton looks over his shoulder at the both of us. “I don’t fucking like it, but you’re already family.”

And then he slips out the door.

“Are you sure about this?” Hawke asks. “I’d be pissed if she bailed on me on my deathbed.”

I smirk because it couldn’t be more Billie, even if she tried. One more cat and mouse game it is.

“I’ve never been any more certain of something in my life.”

This time, I won’t push her away or let her slip through my fingers.

I’ll claim her as mine, not letting her run anywhere else but to me.

CHAPTER 45

Billie

The next available flight was to Mexico. I can work remotely, but Rya forced me to take some leave. I actually thought she’d be wildly pissed, considering she warned me not to let outside factors impact my work. But it turns out that when you’re kidnapped and almost killed, exceptions are made.

The thought of going to Mexico would normally excite me. I automatically think of sitting on the beach, drinking margaritas, and having tacos every day. But this time it’s not fun. I’m spiraling. I hate myself for leaving his side, but my heart hurts so much at the reality that Ford will forever be in danger. And I don’t know if I can handle him being hurt again.

I didn’t leave Manhattan until I knew he was stable. The moment they took the tubes out, and there were signs of him waking, I fled. I wanted him to be surrounded by his family. Not me, who put him in that hospital in the first place.

Eli filled me in with the details of who the woman was and the connection, but it was irrelevant to me. I felt ashamed and guilty. So helpless in that moment as he almost died in my arms.

I’m a coward, I know. Especially when he messages or calls me. It’s such a relief to see his name pop up on my screen, but I’ve ignored him every time, always fighting my urge to lunge at the phone to answer just so I can hear his voice.

My parents know where I am, and I messaged them the minute I landed safely. My mother told me to call her if I need her and she’ll be on the first flight out. Maybe I should tell her everything that’s going on. Maybe she’s the voice of reason I need. But I’d like to work this out by myself. Everyone’s aware of my relationship with Ford now. Our addictive lies are exposed for the entire world to see and judge. And I don’t care anymore. I’m just so exhausted.

On the third day, Ford calls again. I stare at the phone. When I don’t answer it, my phone starts dinging, indicating text messages coming through, all with his name.

I’m lying in my hotel bed, curled under the blankets. I haven’t left the room since I arrived, only ordering room service.

I don’t usually spend my parents’ money, but in a situation like this, I was more than happy to use a small amount just so I can hide away from our world for a while. I’d always been on the fence as to how much I wanted to embrace the life my family lived, but this feels entirely different. Ford is deeply immersed in this world. His risks run even higher than my father’s and brother’s involvement because he is actively sent out to risk his life almost on the daily.

An hour later, my mother calls to check in on me, and I answer as I promised.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says in that soft tone that immediately makes me want to cry.

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