Page 92 of Unlawful Seduction

“I have no clue. Maybe he’s just passing through town. I don’t know.” I sucked down half the glass of wine, immediately reaching for the bottle. Thank God, they’d brought snacks, or I wouldn’t be a fit mother within two hours.

Marjorie glanced at Jenny again. “I’m going to make a phone call. Okay?”

“Sure. Whatever.” At this point, I didn’t care. I was running on empty, no longer able to focus on anything.

I loved my house. I adored my life. I didn’t need any interference. I didn’t need any additional heartache.

I had no capacity to live through what I had before. Only my besties knew what had occurred, but only some details. The townsfolk had manufactured their own stories that I hadn’t confirmed or denied. The press had contacted me, but I’dmanaged to shove them off. Only those closest to me had figured out how distraught I’d been.

At this point I couldn’t even remember what I’d told my best friends. Everything was a blur. I would be stuck telling lies for the rest of my life. How could I mention the man I’d fallen hard for had been a grade-A killer, a criminal working for a notorious mafia organization?

I’d done my best to stay away from attempting to find anything else about Beckett or the people he’d worked for. But my curiosity had kicked my ass about six months in. What little I’d learned about the Valenti family had confirmed what Beckett had told me. They were dangerous. But most of them had died in a horrific house explosion a year before I’d met Beckett.

He’d saved a woman and her son and destroyed all those who’d placed the girl’s life in danger. How chivalrous. I laughed and Jenny gave me a funny look.

“Let it all out,” she advised.

“What good would that do?”

“It’s worth a try.”

It had taken almost eighteen months before I’d stopped looking over my shoulder.

“You need to talk to him. You know that,” she suggested.

“And say what exactly?”

“Brady is his son. Right?”

I gave her a hard look. “Do you really think I suddenly went out on the town after I saw Beckett flying off a cliff?”

“But you didn’t actually see that happen. Did you?”

Her eyebrow was raised. She was always the voice of reason. I swirled my glass and sat back on the seat. “No, but I identified the clothes.”

“I think he faked his own death.”

While the thought had crossed my mind from day one, I’d shoved it aside. However, that’s exactly what he’d done. “To save my life.”

“Or to be able to skip out of town. You said so yourself. People were after him.”

“I did say that, but things were complicated between us.” I wanted to smack her because she was right. Here I was thinking the man was a hero in what he’d done and the real truth was likely that he’d walked away because things had gotten too hot. Then what the hell was he doing back in town? Making my life miserable?

I was shifting from drowning in confusion to being angry with him. Furious to the point I didn’t give a shit about my feelings from before. He’d betrayed me. Four years and he couldn’t pass me a note? He knew where I lived and worked, for God’s sake.

“Because you cared about him.”

“I did. Maybe I still do.”

“You can’t think that way. Whatever occurred, neither one of you are the same person as four years ago.”

She was right. His eyes had seemed vacant, no emotions in them whatsoever. I threw back more wine, nodding several times as I enjoyed the power of being angry with him. “Bastard.”

“There you go,” she said. “You don’t need him in your life, honey. Think about what he did all those years ago.”

“I know. I hate him. I wish I’d never met him.” I laughed and glanced back outside. “Except if I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have my little man, the best thing that’s ever happened in my life.”

“I know, honey, but you don’t need the aggravation at this point in your life. Just try and push thoughts of him aside.”

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