52. Sutton

52

SUTTON

The zip ties dug into my wrists as I stared at the man I used to know. Someone I once thought I loved. A man who had given me Luca.

Now, he was nothing but a stranger dressed in a caterer’s uniform. Far too skinny for his six-foot-two-inch frame and paler than I’d ever seen him. He looked nothing like the photo I’d shown Walter the other day. But it was more than his appearance. It was his actions.

Roman had hurt me and Luca countless times by lying, cheating, and stealing. Not showing up when we needed him the most. But this? This was a choice. An active decision to hurt me, the mother of his child.

Roman’s eyes narrowed on me, a color I’d once thought of as amber but could now see was just mud brown. He adjusted his grip on a gun, shoved one phone into his pocket, and picked up another. Mine. “You even think about screaming, and I’ll put a bullet in your brain faster than you can blink. Then I’ll go for that little brat next.”

I pressed myself harder against the barn wall as if it would somehow save me. It didn’t .

Roman stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the tape and tearing it free in one swift tug. I wanted to curse or cry out but wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. And I wouldn’t scream either. Not until I knew Luca was safe.

For all I knew, Roman had Petrov’s men with him. How many could infiltrate a small-town catering company? I hadn’t heard any Russian accents, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

For now, I would be quiet. Smart. I’d watch and listen. Wait for the perfect moment.

And then I would fight.

Because I had too much to live for. My son. Cope. The family we were building.

A sob pressed against my vocal cords, trying to break free. But I shoved it down. Not now.

Roman’s upper lip curled in disgust like some over-the-top Bond villain. “What’s the matter, Blue Eyes? Cat got your tongue? Usually, you won’t shut up. Always nagging me about something.”

Who was this? It was more than a transformation. It was as if I’d never known him at all.

“What do you want me to say, Roman?”

He winced when I said his name. As if I’d reached out and slapped him. So maybe he could still feel something.

“I want you to say you’re fucking sorry,” he snarled.

I reeled back. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, bitch. You took everything from me. My money. My house. My goddamned kid.”

I gaped at him, shock sweeping through me in nonstop waves. “Your addiction did that. Your choices.”

Roman’s hand snaked out so fast, I didn’t have a prayer of blocking it. His palm cracked across my cheek so hard I tasted blood. The coppery tang filled my mouth as I doubled over, trying to breathe through the pain.

“Ever think I needed the drugs just to be able to live with you ?”

I focused on my breathing—in through my nose, out through my mouth. I spat blood onto the stone floor of the barn, strands of hay scattered across it. All I could see was how Luca’s face lit up as Arden led him around the ring on one of her horse’s backs. The way Cope curved his arm around me as we watched, our boy so happy. And that’s what he was.

Ours.

He wasn’t Roman’s. Not anymore. Roman didn’t have that right.

I forced myself to straighten, even as my head swam. I met the stranger’s dark-brown eyes. “You never deserved us. Me or Luca.”

Roman grinned then, revealing yellowed teeth clearly in need of a dentist. “Oh, and your precious hockey player does?”

I squared my shoulders. I wouldn’t cower. Never again. Not to the men Roman worked with and certainly not to him. “Yes. Cope is more of a man than you will ever be. He’s been more of a father to Luca than you ever were.”

Roman’s grip on the gun tightened, and his breathing grew ragged. “We’ll see about that. See if you still love the prick after I drain his fucking bank account.”

I stilled. Was that what this was? Still all about money and nothing more. “That’s all you’ll ever care about, isn’t it? How to get that next fix?”

“I care about what’s mine,” he snapped. “You bled me dry, and now I’m going to do the same to your pimp here.”

“How?” It was a simple question and should’ve been easy enough to answer, but I had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be.

Roman’s jaw worked back and forth, annoyance flaring there. “He’s gonna wire it. Twenty mil. His bank to the one I set up in Mexico. That’s what you’re here for. A little motivation.” He held up the phone, showing me the text he’d sent to Cope from my device.

My stomach cramped. Was Roman really this far gone? So past living in reality that he didn’t remember that banks put limits on those sorts of things? He might get a couple hundred thousand, but millions? It wasn’t even possible.

But worse, Cope was on his way. Headed straight here because I was in danger, and that’s what he did. Ran in with no thought to his safety, only caring about mine .

“I see it’s all coming together for the little blue-eyed bitch. But not all of it.” Roman lifted the gun, pointing it directly at my head. “Because the moment that transfer goes through, I’m giving you both what you deserve. A bullet in the brain. Maybe I’ll even grab the kid on the way out just for shits and giggles.”

And there’d be nothing I could do to stop him. Not if I didn’t run right now.