I thanked the Uber driver and closed the door behind me, unable to get out of his car fast enough. He didn’t creep me out, and he wasn’t rude, but he smelled like peanut butter, and I found that odd. Not odd that he reminded me of a sandwich, but when I’d asked him what he’d eaten for dinner—for small talk—he went into a whole story about some family meal. A family meal that had nothing to do with peanut butter.

Then again, I hadn’t used Uber since I was in college. I’d forgotten all about how odd some of those drivers could be. I hadn’t gotten one often, but on occasion, I had no choice but to let the woman with the really deep voice drive me home. Those nights had been fun.

When I turned around and took in the sight of my old home, a mixture of dread and nostalgia wrapped me in a cocoon of conflicting emotions. I had so many memories, good and bad, but I couldn’t separate them while staring at the front door that held so many secrets. I’d loved and been loved behind those walls. I’d also suffered so much, both grief when I’d lost my dad and depression from his abuse. Now, after having been away for nearly a year, there were parts of me that almost didn’t recognize the house.

I’d sworn to myself I’d never come back here, but after the ICU nurse told me about some study where coma patients did better when they had someone talk or read to them regularly, I knew I had no choice but to return. When I was younger, my mom would lie in bed next to me and read, always from the same book with the binding so worn the title was no longer recognizable. I had to find it so I could sit beside her and read from those same yellowed pages. I didn’t think it would be possible when I couldn’t locate Cash’s car in the parking lot.

The Range Rover hadn’t been in the spot he’d parked it in, and while glancing around to see if he’d moved it, I’d spotted the distinguishable two-door, 1980 Mercedes Benz Roadster. Cash may not have been there, but he was, and that meant he wouldn’t be at the house. I had to take the opportunity given. I’d quickly sent Cash a text, letting him know where I would be in case he was still around the hospital, and downloaded the Uber app. If anything, I’d be gone for less than an hour, so I hadn’t thought anything of it.

Until I stood in front of the house that had haunted me for years.

As I slowly began to put one foot in front of the other, the grass melting beneath each step, I took in all the differences ranging from the most subtle to the obvious. My old bedroom window faced the front, and for the last five years I’d lived here, the curtains remained closed. But now, they were open. It was dark out, so I couldn’t see in, but I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what the room would look like in the daytime with the warmth of the sun’s rays flooding the space.

When I approached the corner of the house, I couldn’t help but stop and touch the bright-pink flowers, and run my fingertip along the soft petals. Those were new, and I wondered if my mom had planted them—she had given up gardening after my dad passed away. The hedges that ran along the sides and back yard were much bigger than I remembered, taller, and they offered far more privacy than they had before. But I stopped studying them the moment I remembered when they had been planted—just after my seventeenth birthday. Mom had refused to put up a fence, saying they were tacky, so he built a wall of shrubbery.

Once I made it to the back of the house, I took a deep breath and held it. The burn in my chest as air filled my lungs helped quiet my thundering heart.

“He’s not here,” I reminded myself quietly, needing the pep talk before heading inside. I’d sworn to myself I would never come back, but here I was, and no matter what happened, I’d never regret it. My mom needed me, and the only thing I wanted to do was read to her from our book. I closed my eyes and felt around on the brick wall, right at shoulder level, and as soon as the tips of my fingers hit the right spot in the mortar, I released a sigh of relief.

When I was younger, during my rebellious years, I’d sneak out late at night or come home well past curfew. In order to get inside without coming through the front—that had gotten me caught many times—I’d hidden a key in the wall next to the door that led to my bathroom. It was technically the pool bath, meant to be used as a quick entry inside from the lanai, but it was across the hall from my bedroom, so it was mine. And I’d taken advantage of its access many times.

I carefully slipped the broken piece of mortar out using the divots I’d created so long ago for my fingers to grip each side. As it gritted along the bricks, I held my breath, praying the key hadn’t been discovered or removed. But once I had it all the way out and snuck my fingertips into the narrow space, cold metal brushed my skin, and nothing had ever felt better.

I only had one more obstacle in my way.

The key slipped effortlessly into the lock, but I took a second before trying it out. It’d dawned on me that I’d come all this way, made it this far, and this could be the giant red stop sign that turned me away. If they’d changed the locks after I left, I would have no way to get inside, which meant I’d have no way of getting that book. I couldn’t even remember what the title was—Mom and I had always just called it “our book”—so it wasn’t like I’d be able to buy it at a store in the morning. I came here for one thing, and if this door didn’t open, I wasn’t sure what I’d do.

I silently dropped my forehead to the metal, said a prayer to myself, and turned the key. To my surprise, it worked. The cold, brass knob sent a chill up my arm—a warning I passed off as residual dread caused by the memories that hid within these walls. But I pushed past it and pulled on the handle, rejoicing in the absence of squeaky hinges. The memory of when I’d coated and waxed them to silence my late-night departures and arrivals put a smile on my face and washed away the unease. But that high didn’t last long.

I closed the door behind me, careful of my movements in the dark room, and began to slowly shuffle my feet toward the hallway. The kitchen light appeared to be on, the glow radiating down the hall and shining through the crack in the door, and it guided me across the bathroom. It may have been almost a year since I’d been here, and there was a good chance Mom had redecorated it with new mats and possibly a fancier shower curtain, but I could navigate the space with my eyes closed. After sneaking back in so many nights, the house pitch black, I could almost tell you the exact distance between the toilet and sink, down to the inches. And even though that would still be the case, it didn’t mean I wasn’t cautious.

My breathing stopped at the sound of a male voice. No one was here, I was all alone—I knew this because Mom was lying in a hospital bed across town, and when the Uber driver picked me up, the pale-yellow Mercedes with the light-brown convertible top was still parked in the same spot. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down so I could hear over the sound of my frantically beating heart. And once I had regained control of my breathing, I was able to hone in on the words coming from down the hall.

“So what do we do?” His throaty voice called to me, as if I’d recognize it anywhere. But I had too many thoughts and fears and questions bombarding me that I couldn’t place it. It was so familiar, even though I had no idea who it was. I wondered if it was someone I’d gone to school with, and he’d taken the opportunity to break into the house and rob the place.

“I don’t know…why don’t ya tell me? You’re the one who came here first.” The more I listened, the more I convinced myself the TV had been left on. The words didn’t make sense, and aside from the first voice, this one wasn’t familiar at all.

“Rhett…” A third man spoke in warning, deep and unforgiving, and it once again made me believe this was nothing more than a movie playing in the living room. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, sir, but could you possibly save the lecture for later? We have a man tied up on his own kitchen floor. I’m pretty sure that takes precedence over your irritation at his stupidity.”

I held my breath and covered my mouth with my fingers, trying to tell myself it was the TV, yet I no longer believed it. A man was tied up in the kitchen, and there were at least three others in the house. I needed to flee, run away, get out of here as fast as I could…but I was frozen. Once again, my fight or flight instinct had failed me and left me in a solid state of unmoving panic.

That was…until more was said.

“Fine, I can wait to tear ’im a new asshole. But tell me this, Nicholson…what was your plan?” Nicholson…Nicholson… I gasped as tears filled my eyes, blurring the already dark room. “Kill him in his own house? Leave him hogtied for dead? Any thoughts as to how you’d explain to the cops why your fingerprints were all over the place, or why someone could match the description of your car and report seein’ it here? I have a feeling that wouldn’t go over too well with your girl.”

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t possibly be real.

This had to be an oddly coincidental movie.

“I wasn’t thinking about—”

“Of course you weren’t, Cash.” This wasn’t a movie. There was no coincidence. Any doubt or prayer I’d had vanished at the sound of his name. Such intense anger had filled the man’s voice that it had given me a mental image of a red face, possibly a bulging vein in his forehead. “That’s the problem…you weren’t thinkin’. Which is exactly why taking matters into your own hands is dangerous—especially when you’re a trained killer.”

“What’d you want me to do?” Cash screamed, and it was so loud it made me take a step back. “He said he’s going to come after Jade and take Aria.” His voice cracked, which was the only thing that kept me quiet.

Fear pinned me, rooted me to the floor, covered my body like a weighted net. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past Cash’s words—he planned to take my baby away. He could come after me all he wanted—I’d survived it before and would do it again—but I’d be damned if I’d let that monster anywhere near my child. He sought the control, fed off it like it was his last meal. He didn’t care about me or Aria…only the control.

Whimpering moans were followed by an interrupted grunt when the third man spoke again. “What are we going to do with him, boss? We can’t leave him here. The first thing he’ll do is call the cops. And I’m willing to bet someone notices if he goes missing.”

I couldn’t tell who was the boss, whether it was Cash or the other guy. And I assumed one of the other two men’s names was Rhett. But I couldn’t figure out if that meant there were four guys or just three, and the fear of who they were kept me from moving.

“Nah, he won’t say anything.” The gruff voice of what I assumed was the second guy gave me chills. They ran up my arms and down my back at the way he spoke, almost tauntingly with a threatening undertone. “Because I happen to own a fancy tool, somewhat like a pair of meat tongs, that comes in handy when removin’ a tongue. And if that’s not incentive enough for ya, how ’bout this…” I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but his voice lowered when he said, “I could kill you without a single person findin’ out, and leave without a trace like a breeze through the night.”

I took a step back, then another, my hand still covering my face and my eyesight glued to the light flooding in through the crack in the door. A sob had lodged itself in my chest, expanding and taking over, making my heart fight harder for space. My sternum ached like it would shatter at any minute.

I needed to get out of there.

Finally, my flight instinct kicked in, but it wasn’t smooth. Trembles overtook my entire body while I spun on my heel and rushed for the door to the lanai—only, I was off balance and working with two weak knees. I ran into the ledge of the counter with my hip, and searing pain radiated through my pelvis. When I tried to grab ahold of the vanity to catch myself, my arm knocked into whatever had been sitting on top of it, and what sounded like glass bottles and aerosol cans went crashing to the floor.

In the split second of silence while I stood still, entrenched in fear, I heard one of the men say, “Kryder, go check that out.” Then, his voice came out higher, full of concerned questions when he asked, “Is someone in the house? Did you happen to check the perimeter before turnin’ this place into a fuckin’ crime scene?”

I bolted toward the door, taking the knob in my grip. But before I could turn it and flee, light poured into the room, and thick, angry fingers wrapped completely around my bicep. Whoever it was pulled my back against his hard chest, nearly knocking the wind out of me, and locked me in place with his strong, masculine hold across the front of my shoulders. I couldn’t manage to retain anything in that moment. Not the light-colored, curly hairs on his forearm or the tropical scent wafting from his shirt. I didn’t take note of how the back of my head came to his collarbone or the way his chin grazed the top of my ear while we stood. Anything that would’ve helped identify this man vanished from my thought process when he dragged me from the bathroom, down the hall, to the kitchen.

“Let her go!” The vicious, almost feral demand hit me hard in the chest, and immediately, I was released.

My eyes flew open, not realizing I’d shut them, and my sight fell on a very angry Cash. His stare pierced the man behind me.

Seeking safety, I ran toward Cash. In less than four strides, I was wrapped in his strained, unyielding arms. He held me to him. I pressed my face against the solid planes of his chest and breathed him in, his familiar scent engulfing me in effortless security. The comfort only his embrace could offer immediately calmed my breathing and slowed my heart rate.

“Any other witnesses you’d like to invite to the party?” The voice came from behind Cash, startling me. The way he snarled his question was enough to bring me out of the moment and remind me of the situation at hand.

I pulled away, but Cash’s unforgiving hold wouldn’t let me go far. An older man, built like a two-ton truck, stood next to the kitchen table, his heavy, black boot pressed into a man’s chest. From where I was, I couldn’t get a good look at the victim’s face to recognize him, but I was able to see his arms tucked behind his back, pinned beneath him, and his legs, twisted oddly, hooked beneath his bottom. The way he lay on the floor, contorted with his limbs trapped under his body, anchored to the tile with a large boot confining his already constricted movements, seemed excessive.

But then he turned his head.

And those haunting green eyes made my blood run cold.

I fisted the sides of Cash’s shirt, desperate for his gravity to keep me from falling away. His words from only moments ago—yet it felt like ages had passed since hearing them—ran through me. He said he’s going to come after Jade and take Aria. Both unbridled fury and deeply rooted fear bred within me, charging me with the electrifying combination. Heat rolled through my chest like an unfurled fire, burning fast and furious up my neck and scorching my face.

Simultaneously, I released my grip on Cash and pushed away from him, frantically fighting to get to the bastard who’d ruined my life. The hatred and terror he’d groomed within me aroused the normally dormant wrath inside me. The animosity, resentment, and suppressed bitterness rushed forward in a torrent of unrestrained condemnation. “You won’t get her! You can’t touch her! She’ll never be yours!”

Cash’s grip around my waist kept me from him. I kicked my feet out from beneath me while Cash held me in the air, disregarding my flailing arms and wild legs. I’d probably even scratched him with my nails when I dug them into his arms, trying to break free.

“Get ahold of her, Nicholson,” the older man with silver hair commanded.

The room tilted when Cash swung me around, only coming to a screeching halt once he had my back against the counter with his arms on either side of me, trapping me in place. The way he towered over me left me arching my back, and his chest rising and falling in exertion close to mine.

I lifted my chin to find his stormy gaze.

But he didn’t say anything.

And neither did I.

The chaos continued around us while we stared into each other’s eyes. But the longer it went on, the more in tune I became to the conversation happening behind Cash. I could now clearly separate the two men without having to see them. And by the slightly higher-pitched voice and lack of subtle Southern drawl, I identified it was the younger one who said, “He looks like a shitshow, man. There’s no way he won’t say anything. The first person who sees him will know he’s had his ass handed to him.”

“He may only got one oar in the water, but he ain’t stupid enough to talk…are ya, you ol’ buzzard?” A few soft slaps filled the air, and I assumed he’d smacked his face to punctuate his oddly worded insult. “He knows what’ll happen to him if he opens his gator.”

Cash closed his eyes, a rush of air leaving his lips as his head fell forward. And then his shoulders began to shake with the roll of unexpected humor that rumbled in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder, an easy grin on his face, and said, “Any other references to animals you’d like to make? I’ve got a few if you need them.”

The entire situation caught me off guard and made my body tense at the possibility he’d gone crazy. Once I started questioning the reasons behind such a theory, it brought my focus to the here and now. The words and confessions I’d overheard from the bathroom filled my head, and the fact there were three men in my mom’s house, my stepdad beaten on the floor, intensified the paranoia and persuaded me that the man in front of me was a stranger, someone I didn’t know at all. You’re a trained killer echoed in my mind.

When I’d come into the kitchen and saw the green eyes of that monster, I’d blocked out everything around me.

But I couldn’t do that anymore.

Reality smacked me in the face.

I’d been living with a liar, a horrible person.

“Oh, God.” The words slipped past my lips. I was unable to cover my mouth fast enough before I drew Cash’s attention to my revelation. I’d had Aria in his home, alone with him, in his care. In the presence of a killer. He’d been in my bed—inside me—but nothing was as bad as his role in my daughter’s life. “No, no, no, no…”

I tried to skirt around him, but he was too fast. His arm wound around my waist, his giant paw gripping my hip. There was no escape, no freedom. No way out of this. The panic increased with each second that ticked by. The longer he touched me, the hotter my skin burned, until I felt like I was melting from the inside out.

“We gotta get her outta here, son.” The older man’s voice had calmed, lost most of its menacing tone. It was almost filled with concern, maybe compassion.

But I refused to go anywhere with him, so I continued to fight against the hold Cash had on me. “No! I need to get a book. I came for a book to read to my mom, and I can’t leave without it.”

The burly arms that acted as chains loosened some, but not enough for me to wrangle free. “Come on…let’s go get it. Where is it?” The same deep, buttery tone I’d heard many times before flooded my ears and tricked my brain. It called to my heart and promised me safety. It told me of all the things his touch always conveyed—that he would protect me, love me, wield his sword in my defense.

Nothing more than lies decorated with velvet.

“Living room,” I choked out in the hopes he wouldn’t pick up on my trepidation.

Although, it’d been foolish to think he’d missed the hitch in my voice. He grabbed my hand and led me around the corner, past the staircase, toward the front of the house. His stumble and uncertainty of the layout proved he hadn’t ventured far from the kitchen, and it made me wonder what exactly had taken place before I’d shown up.

While I scanned the bookshelves in search of the broken spine and illegible title, he remained behind me, as if watching my every move in case I tried to flee. I’d spotted it almost immediately, but rather than grab it so we could leave, I hesitated, hoping it’d offer a moment to escape. However, yet again, Cash was able to read me like a bold headline.

His arm stretched out over my shoulder and hovered in front of the line of books. It reminded me of the indicator on a metal detector, swaying slowly from side to side. The more I reacted, the closer he came to the one I had my eyes set on. And the moment he touched that particular spine, I lost the game.

There was no point in fighting him—I wouldn’t win.

And honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Even now, I had a hard time separating the man I knew from the one I found in the kitchen.

I turned to face him, yet not look at his face, and grabbed the book from his hands. I held it close to my chest and hoped it would hide my accelerated breathing. It did not. Instead, it called his attention until he had his hands on my shoulders, keeping me directly in front of him.

“He won’t hurt you,” he assured me.

One glance into his eyes, and the dam threatened to break. “It’s not him I’m worried about right now.”

It was like my words were knives shoved straight into his heart. Every ounce of the tough guy inches away from me seemed in pain, physical agony caused by my truth. “You think I’ll hurt you?”

“I-I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

He cradled my face in his hands and held my stare. “I love you, Jade. Know that. Trust that.”

“I have to go. I have to get back to my mom,” was all I could whisper.

Without another word, he took my hand and led me away. He must’ve sensed my fight had depleted, because his grip wasn’t as tight as before, although it wasn’t loose enough to slip free.

When we made it back to the kitchen, I glanced down at the person who once controlled so much of my life, who had embedded so much fear in me, yet I couldn’t even muster the strength to hate him the way I should. I detested him, yes…but not with the ferocity I’d had earlier. Not with the need to attack him and prove that I had won.

Because I hadn’t won.

I’d lost…so much.

And I wasn’t sure how I’d ever get it back.

If I’d ever get it back.

My fight instinct had taken flight, and all I was left with was hopelessness.