Chapter 8
Hadley’s eyes widened. Marriage?
She couldn’t stand another coffee date with this fuckwit, let alone marry him. Hell, she’d rather put on a raw meat bikini and wrestle a hungry lion, or drag her bare labia across Georgia asphalt in August than leg-shackle herself to Darren for all eternity.
He must’ve seen the horror in her eyes because his expression darkened with what could only be described as pure evil before he added, “Or I’ll let Liam here do whatever he wants with you before he sells you to the cartel.”
Her gaze shifted to Liam just in time to see him grin and lick his lips. She hadn’t known she could cringe with her entire body until that moment.
“You’re a smart girl, Hadley. I know you’ll make the right choice, won’t you?”
Some fucking choice, she thought. Marry a crazy, violent asshole, or let some crazy, violent asshole sex traffic her to a cartel. But at least option A bought her a little time.
She couldn’t nod with Liam’s hand clamped down on her jaw, but she gave Darren a slow blink and the barest hint of a head tilt to indicate her compliance.
The rain clouds seemed to lift from his eyes and the look of pure joy he gave her was somehow more terrifying than his anger. “I knew you loved me, too.”
Delusional fucker.
Hopefully her eyes didn’t say that out loud to him. Her eyes had a habit of telling the truth like that. It was super inconvenient.
“Get your hands off my wife, Liam.”
Liam let out a disgusted sigh and pulled his hand off her mouth. “She was probably too old for the cartel, anyway.”
Then he straightened to his full height, which put his crotch within kicking range.
Hadley drew up her knees and swung both feet as hard as she could into Liam’s balls. She put every pound of body weight she had into that kick.
With a sound something like an asthmatic goat, Liam dropped to his knees at her bedside, clutching his balls while staring at her with wide, horrified eyes. Hadley shouldered him out of her way and leapt to her feet.
Darren looked so confused that she would’ve felt sorry for him if he hadn’t just threatened her. So, she threw her elbow as hard as she could at his head. But because she was several inches shorter than him, she only managed to connect with his collarbone.
It did knock him back a step, though, and that was all the invitation she needed. Hadley raced out of the room as fast as her bare feet could carry her, letting out a shriek of the damned along the way.
She’d made it all the way to her front door—inches from freedom—when Darren grabbed her by the hair and threw her back against her living room wall. He was on her before she could scramble away, pinning her with his superior body weight.
“You’re going to regret that,” he hissed, spit flying in her face.
That’s when she noticed his pupils were pinpoints. Asshole was probably high as a kite on pain meds or something, which made him even more dangerous. Fucking great.
Liam stumbled out of the bedroom, huffing and wheezing, half bent over. “I’m. Gonna. Kill. That. Bitch,” he seethed through clenched teeth.
Hadley did everything she could to break Darren’s grip. But no matter how she twisted, turned, or squirmed, she was stuck. She sucked in a breath to scream again, but Darren slapped a hand over her mouth so hard her head slammed back against the wall.
Her lungs seized up. The room started to spin. Dark spots danced before her eyes. This was it, she realized. She was actually going to die because of some asshole she’d gone a few dates with.
Maybe someone would use her grisly murder to create new legislation that protected other women from men they’d dated and dumped going forward. They’d call it Hadley’s Law.
Oh, who was she kidding? Her death wasn’t even going to be interesting enough to make it onto a cool murder podcast. She was going to die alone without so much as a dog left behind to mourn her.
She’d always wanted a dog, too, but put off adopting one because she always thought there’d be more time.
She was so far down the emotional, pre-death rabbit hole that when her front door burst off its hinges and an avenging angel stepped over the threshold, dark and terrifying and devastatingly beautiful, she thought maybe she’d died and he was here to usher her to heaven.
Or hell. She wasn’t sure which. She’d always considered herself a good person, but with heaven’s rigid standards, maybe she hadn’t made the cut.
Which wasn’t the point.
Point was, it took her a few minutes to realize the giant in her doorway, backlit by the glow of a full moon, was Cole.
The look on his face was terrifying. He looked like he was silently calculating how to destroy his enemies in the most efficient, painful way possible.
After a split-second glance around the room, he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger twice, putting one bullet in Liam’s chest, the other in his head.
Liam’s body hadn’t even hit the ground before he turned the gun on Darren. “Let her go.”
His voice sent a shiver down Hadley’s spine. She’d never heard colder words in her life. She would’ve done anything he told her to do if he used that tone on her. Anything.
Darren shook his head, hand still covering her mouth and nose. “Put the gun down or she’s dead.”
She’d seen enough cop shows to know that Cole wouldn’t want to shoot Darren when he was so close to her. Hadley closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him to go ahead and take the shot. Even if he hit her, she’d rather die by accidental shooting than by Darren’s hand.
Cole cocked his head to one side. “The only reason I haven’t shot you already is that I don’t want her to end up with a face-full of your blood and gray matter.
” He tossed his gun on the couch and raised his hands.
“You didn’t fare too well against me hand-to-hand before, but if you want another shot at the title, champ, go for it. Take your best shot.”
Darren took the bait. He let go of Hadley to rush Cole. Hadley dropped to her knees, gasping for breath as Darren pulled back his fist, obviously prepared to put his body weight behind a punch.
A punch that would never connect.
Because Cole easily sidestepped the hit, hooking an arm around the back of Darren’s head. In a move so smooth and fluid it looked almost like a choreographed dance, Cole yanked him down toward his rising knee. The dull crack of face on bone made bile rise to Hadley’s throat.
Darren’s body stuttered but didn’t drop.
Cole kept hold of his head, turning with the momentum.
He slammed him backward into Hadley’s front door, forcing his chin up so his neck bent at an ugly angle.
The resulting sharp, wet pop might’ve only happened in Hadley’s imagination.
But the way Darren’s legs crumpled, arms twitched, and head lolled at a crooked tilt told her he wasn’t just unconscious.
Cole had dropped to his knees at her side before Darren’s body hit the floor. His hands moved over her quickly, efficiently, silently assessing her for injuries. “I’m going to need you to say something,” he said. “Tell me you’re OK.”
She wanted to. Truly she did. But the words were stuck somewhere between her brain and her tongue.
“Please,” he begged.
She cleared her throat weakly. “I’m—”
He let out a sharp breath. “That’s right. Talk to me. You’re, what?”
“I’m thinking…I should…get a dog.”
His brow furrowed. He probably thought she had brain damage. She opened her mouth to explain her tangled thought process.
But that’s when all hell broke loose.
Men in head-to-toe black with guns. Shouting. Flashlights shining in their eyes. Cole being wrenched away from her. Pain rippling through her bones as someone yanked her to her feet by one arm. Then…
Nothing but blackness.