I love him.

I don’t know how it happened—or when it began. Maybe it started when I realized how kind and selfless he is, because he hasn’t done a single thing for himself. He should’ve run the moment my father offered him my hand in marriage. Instead he risked everything for me. He still is.

I have no idea what they’re making him do, but I’m worried he’ll die attempting it.

He rises early in the morning, black and blue painting his body. My wonderful, adoring dad did that to him. Rage seethes in my guts. He told me my husband was dead, acted as though he were a victim of some gang shootout while he decided whether Bastien should live or die.

I follow Bastien into the kitchen, where he stands in his briefs, holding an ice pack to his face. He smiles at me through his pain. My heart breaks.

Don’t go. Please, don’t.

I walk to his side and wrap an arm around his waist. He sets the bag down, and cold fingers tickle my cheek. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Morning.” I kiss him, hoping to give him another reason to stay. “Thought you’d be making coffee.”

“My face is a little sore. I figured I’d lay off the hot drinks for a while.”

That’s putting it lightly. The swelling went down during the night, but he still looks like he was put through the grinder. He’s in no shape for whatever they need him to do.

My eyes sting. “We never discussed baby names.”

“I’ve thought about them a little. Maybe we should emulate those celebrity couples and name the kid something crazy.”

“If you want to do that to a dog, knock yourself out. My baby will have a normal name.”

“How about River Rocket?”

“I’m going to kick your ass.”

He nods his head as though it could grow on him. “Bit long. I suggest keeping it to three words, tops.”

A laugh shakes out of my chest, and then the air catches in my throat, bursting into a sob. The amusement fades from Bastien’s face as his arms curl around me.

“I can’t pretend nothing happened. We’ve barely had any time together.”

His voice booms through my back. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

Doubt churns in my stomach. “Bastien, stop fucking with me. You can’t promise you’ll be here tomorrow, so don’t. You have no idea what I went through last night.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there were another way.”

“W-what are they making you do? I need to know.”

“Eva—”

“No, you said no more secrets.” I pull away from him, heart beating fast. “Tell me.”

Bastien reapplies the bag to his face, letting out a huge sigh. “You don’t sign up for the Mafia and leave without a big consequence.”

“But you were never really in.”

“Even worse,” he says. “I betrayed them. Now I have to regain their trust.”

“By doing what?”

He shuts his eyes. “Killing two cops.”

My pulse gallops ahead. “Which?”

“Detective Carter, the one you met, and Captain Ritter. They’re the ones responsible for me working undercover and the reason why those psychos shot up the baby shower.”

There’s ice in my lungs. “You can’t do this.”

“Babe, I have to. Your father and Johnny Cravotta will never let me walk away if I don’t do this. It’s the deal I struck.”

How can he be so cavalier about this? “How do you expect to get away with murdering two cops? I don’t care if they’re crooked. The department won’t take this lying down. There’ll be a national manhunt for the killer of police officers.”

Bastien transfers the ice to the other side. “I need to make them disappear.”

“Like Adrián?”

His eyes shift. “Yes.”

“Bastien, this is insane. You’re a cop—this is against everything you stand for.”

“Not anymore.” The bag crumples in his fist. “They’re nothing to me. Adrián, that biker, and the two bastards who shot at my wife.”

“They’ll go to jail and it serves them right, but don’t kill them. You’re not a murderer.”

“Yeah, I am.”

No. “I fell in love with you because you weren’t one of them.”

“It’s our choices that define us, Eva. I realized that being a cop didn’t matter as much as keeping my wife and unborn baby safe.”

“We’re not—we’re not married.” I twist the ring on my finger.

He takes my hand. “It might’ve been fake in the eyes of the law, but I meant every word I said on that altar. I love you. This is forever.”

Bastien leans over and gently kisses the tears away, and then I fold my palm into his. I guide him into the bedroom. If this is the last time I’ll ever see my husband, I want to delay the moment he leaves. I strip my t-shirt and panties off. Then Bastien closes the door.

He grinds his hips against me, seizes my waist with a strength that makes me gasp. I tug the briefs down his powerful legs and wrap myself around him as we fall into the bed, our bodies joining again and again. I need to savor every stroke. Commit his taste to memory. I want all of him, everywhere.

He fucks me like a desperate man, as though it’s his last day on Earth. Every time he gets close, he breathes deep. Neither of us wants this over quickly.

I mold my mouth against his, breathing him in. “I won’t let you go.”

His eyes flash. “You will.”

“You can’t stop me.”

With a ferocious glare, he grabs something and takes my wrist. He pins it to the headboard, a smooth silk grazing my skin. Then he lifts my other hand and does the same. This time I feel the knot. I look up. He tied me to the goddamn bed.

This is how I love him. Wild.

Bastien strokes my tits with his tongue as I tug fruitlessly at the restraints. His cock stabs upward, sliding against the nerves begging me to grind him. He sucks my nipple, making me cry out. “You’re staying here.”

“I’m not.”

His teeth pinch the sensitive skin. “You promised to listen.”

“I love you.”

He grabs my face, forcing me to gaze into the wild lust dominating his movements. I tighten myself around him, shifting to let him anchor deep. Then he lets out an almighty groan, his cock jerking hard as his eyes fracture. A violent jolt runs through my core as the last barrier smashes down with a wave of pleasure.

Bastien pulls me close, arms wrapped on my waist so tight I believe I’ve changed his mind. He holds me for a long time, and then his body disengages from mine. He unties my wrists. I lie on the bed, pretending to be asleep as he takes a shower. The water pelts the tiles. Steam fills the bedroom. I memorize every detail, even the way the morning light plays on the walls.

When the water turns off and he pulls on clothes, I bite my lip to keep from screaming out loud. The mattress sinks as he sits down. His hand rolls over my arm and squeezes gently.

This is goodbye. “You’re still leaving.”

“Yes.”

I bury my face in the shelter of his arms and cling to his chest. My mouth opens in a silent plea for him to stay.

He strokes my hair. “I’m doing this for us. Soon as I get back, we’ll leave this place. My parents would love to meet you. Just in case—if something happens—their address is on the nightstand.” He kisses my cheek.

I tilt my head, hooking a finger around his collar to taste his lips. He digs into my neck and deepens the kiss. My heart does backflips with his little smile. “I’ll be back. Sooner than you think.”

Then I follow him to the door and pretend my insides aren’t lead. I play the dutiful wife as he steps outside with a wave, and stand in the doorway until he climbs into the car. When his Toyota is a speck in the distance, I move quickly.

The world shrinks as I head inside, into the bedroom. I crawl on my knees and grope under the bed frame. My fingers touch cold, hard metal. The gun my husband doesn’t know exists. Daddy gave it to me, just in case.

I won’t beg Bastien to stay.

I’ll pay a visit to my father.

* * *

I’ve never fired a gun at a person, but it can’t be harder than targets at the shooting range. Its weight feels heavy in my purse. I couldn’t decide where to carry it. Sticking it down my jeans was out of the question. Women’s clothes aren’t exactly built for slinging guns, but it could fit inside a purse. All I have to do is reach for it as though reaching for a phone.

I pull up to my father’s house. The lawn went to hell as soon as I moved out, and so did the rest of my garden. My bleeding heart bush yellowed from weeks of neglect, and shriveled pink flowers cover the ground. My lips thinning, I glance at the door. Two men in suits stand there like guard dogs.

I tear the sunglasses from my eyes and climb the steps. The keys in my ring clank together as I find Dad’s. I slide it inside, or try to, meeting nothing but resistance. “What is this?” I ask the meathead standing beside me.

“He recently changed his locks.”

Damn it. “Let me in.”

“I need to clear it with the boss,” he says.

“Open the door!” I move away from him, pounding my fist on the wood. “Dad! I’m here.”

From deep within, I hear my father’s wheezing voice. “Eva? Come in.”

I fall inside when the door swings inward. His guards seem to have tripled. I don’t recognize many of their faces—probably Johnny Cravotta’s men. How gracious of him to extend his protection to my vile father.

The house still looks like shit, and the air reeks with the smell of rotten food. My dad’s voice echoes from the office, but I follow my nose into the kitchen, where there’s a stack of dishes in the sink a mile high. “Jesus Christ. Why haven’t you taken care of this?”

The guard dogging my footsteps balks. “That’s not my job.”

“He has cancer, you moron. He needs help with this shit. Clean up this fucking mess, or I’ll tell Johnny how useless you’ve been!”

The dumb asshole springs to do my bidding. I’d smile at his back if there weren’t a dark cloud hovering over my head. Maybe I should’ve been more short with these people. Threats seem to be the only thing they respond to.

Bastien needs me.

I leave the guard with the pile of dishes, heading for my father’s office. His low, bullfrog voice croaks from the interior as someone responds on speaker. There’s a fucking guard inside his tiny room. I’ll have to get rid of him, too.

I slide in, my nose tingling with the scent of cigarettes. The sight of used buds in the ashtray fills my head with acid. I spent so much time researching and taking him to appointments, and what does he do the moment I’m gone? Takes a giant shit on it.

I don’t care that he’s dying anymore. This isn’t about a man’s last request for comfort. It’s about thirty-three years of wasted loyalty.

Father’s skin hangs on his bones like paper, his eyes more sunken than ever. He shivers as though from a cold, and I squash the temptation to fetch him a sweater. I clear my throat, placing my purse over my knees with my hand resting on it.

This is a stupid idea. Bastien would hate it, but he doesn’t get a vote.

Finally Dad hangs up and wheezes a wet cough, dragging a tissue toward his lips.

I stare at him across the desk. “Jesus, what is this? Fort Knox?”

“I asked Johnny for more men to guard me. Can’t be too careful.”

Why didn’t I get extra guards? “It seems excessive. How are you feeling?”

He blinks slowly. “Not too great. Fucking cancer is sucking the life out of me.”

“I see you’ve taken up smoking, too.”

“Eva, don’t start. I only stopped because you gave me such a hard time. Now that I have a couple of months, I want to enjoy myself with the few pleasures I have left.”

I cross my legs. “Well, get rid of this guy. Make him stand outside.”

He waves at the guard, coughing. “Lou, go on.”

The door opens, and I wait until I hear it close before inching my fingers toward the zipper.

“I know why you’re here,” he says. “You’re upset about Sébastien.”

My hands freeze. “You told me on the phone he was not coming back. He’s the love of my life. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

“Yes. You might not remember your mom’s passing, but I do. I loved her, and it was the hardest thing in the world to pick up the pieces and go on.”

I lean over the desk. “But you lied. He wasn’t dead, he was right there, listening to you talk after you did God knows what.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Eva. You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I know he’s a cop,” I grind out, relishing the shock of pain in his gaze. “He’s my husband and the father of my child. I don’t care what he is, and you had no right to rip him away from me.”

“You knew?” he says, outraged. “You fucking knew about that lying bastard and said nothing?”

“I kept his secret because I knew what you’d do to him.” My lip trembles as the pressure behind my eyes builds. “And now you’ll hurt him again. He told me what you’re making him do.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have sent that asshole on a job like that. His word is worthless. He lied to me. I wanted him dead, and yes, I knew how much it’d make you suffer. That’s why I wasn’t planning a quick death.”

My mouth gapes open as Dad sinks back into his chair, the ire animating his body fading. He’s never talked like this before. “You would’ve tortured and killed my husband because he lied to you?”

He squares his jaw. “He was trying to destroy me and made idiots out of both of us, sweetheart. I couldn’t let that disrespect slide.”

“I’m the one married to him! We’re having a baby. How could you do that to me?”

The bitter sound of his laughter cuts at my heart. “He’s a fucking cop! He’s a scumbag, and I won’t have him near my daughter.”

I pry open the zipper, reach inside the purse. I whip out the gun and aim it for his middle.

My father tenses. “Jesus, Eva. Calm down.”

I shake. “I am done being used by you. My whole life I’ve had to live by the beat of someone else’s drum. I want Bastien, and you’re going to give him to me.”

He raises his hands, white faced. “Baby—”

“Don’t! I’ve sacrificed everything for you. What have you done for me?”

His mouth opens and closes wordlessly.

“Call it off!”

“Sweetheart, I can’t.”

“You’re the boss!”

“Not anymore,” he says in a bitter tone. “Johnny’s calling the shots on this one. Maybe you should’ve pointed a gun at him instead.”

My fingers tense over the trigger. “I’m not fucking around.”

“What are you going to do?” he bellows. “Shoot your own father? Did that son of a bitch turn my daughter against me, too? Jesus Christ, thank God your mother died and didn’t live to see this.”

Shoot him.

Tears blind my eyes. I imagine the wall behind him painted with red, a hole in my father’s skull, and horror fills my heart. There were dozens of happy Christmases and birthdays, but the memories feel tainted.

My finger nudges the trigger. I don’t want to kill him. I can’t.

The door bursts open and the guard steps through. My father screams, “Take the fucking gun!”

The guard seizes my arm and twists, pinning it behind my back. He digs into my wrist. A sharp pain slices into me and I scream, the pistol dropping heavily to the carpet.

He takes the gun, shoving it into his jacket. And then he hauls me upright in a brutal grip.

Dad still has his hands raised, his face frozen in shock. “What the fuck were you thinking? How dare you turn that gun on me?”

“You might have cancer, but I’m the one living with it. You are a fucking disease, and I want you out of my life. If you won’t lift a finger to save Bastien, fuck you! You’ll never meet your grandchild! I’m done!”

“Get her out!” he screams.

Dad sweeps his bald head, gaping at me as his guard shoves me out of the office. It’s the last time I’ll ever see him. And good riddance.