Page 53 of Parker
My husband was a man I didn’t know. I was out of my depth. And now it might not only cost my life, but my child’s.
“Tie her up,” he ordered, as if asking for tea.
I screamed as they hauled me backward. My arms shook, but it wasn’t fear; it was rage.
The candles still flickered, but one by one, they were going out.
***
Joel pads into the living room and my mind snaps back to now.
We’ve been sleeping in separate bedrooms since my release from the hospital a month ago. Since his revelations the day I came home, neither of us has mentioned the business, or what he kept hidden from me. We exist around each other.
He watches me like a hawk, like he’s terrified I’ll run. After what he told me, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m horrified. And I have no idea how to get out.
“Nicky,” he says, quietly. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” I mumble, eyes staying fixed on the floor.
He’s in loose jogging bottoms and no shirt. Tousled hair. Defined abs. He looks edible.
As much as I want to hate him, I can’t. He’s still the man I fell in love with. The baggage was always there; I just never saw it.
“If you want to leave me…” His voice cracks. “I can make it happen.”
Confused, I stare at him blankly.
“Things are dangerous in the city. Every night, one of our men is being attacked by the Worths. Here, at home, you’re secure. But out there? I can’t keep you safe.”
My heart strains with each word.
“I understand if you don’t want me or this life. I can make you disappear. A fresh start. Somewhere up north or abroad. Anywhere. Just say the word. I can’t go on living in this house and not being able to touch you. It’s killing me.”
He kneels between my legs as I sit on the sofa, steady hands tight on my thighs.
“Nicky, please. I know I’m not the man you thought you married, but believe me when I tell you, I love you.” He places his head in my lap and wraps his arms around my waist. “Acceptme, warts and all. Or go. Don’t torture me with silence anymore. I beg you. I can’t take it.”
“You hurt me,” I whisper. “Your enemies killed our child. I’m in a war I never agreed to. A war I didn’t even know was being fought.”
He looks up at me with tears in his eyes.
My heart fractures. The thought of being without him is unbearable. My life before him was tragic, with no love or hope.
Resigning myself to what I already know in my bones, I state, “Never lie to me again. I need to know everything—what’s happening, what I’m involved in, where the danger lies. I want the truth. Always.”
“You’re not leaving?” he says in disbelief.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not leaving. But don’t lie to me again,” I warn. “It’ll take time to trust you.”
He rises, cupping my face.
“That night…” My voice breaks. “I was going to tell you about the baby,”
“I know,” he says, his mouth twisting into a grim line. “You’ll never forgive me for bringing this evil to our door. But please, let me try. Let me make you happy again.”
“With you, happy or broken-hearted, is where I’m meant to be.”
Our lips connect. His tears mix with mine. And in that moment, we begin to find our way back to each other.
