Chapter 24

"Samuel, baby," I continue to press as he drives us home at reckless speeds, "Please tell me what the hell is going on."

"It's nothing." His voice is flat, and he still refuses to make eye contact with me.

"Just tell me what that was all about."

"I said it's nothing."

Bullshit.

Fucking bullshit.

Reaching between our seats, and hoping to God I don't pull too hard, I wrap my fingers around the emergency brake and lift it a notch. The tires squeal as the brakes lock in place, and the antique sports car begins to fishtail uncontrollably across the road. We slide along the shoulder, loose gravel and dust kicking into the air in our wake.

Samuel regains control and brings the car to a stop, resting half on the road and half on shoulder, before throwing the car into park. Spinning in his seat, his nostrils flare, and his face beet-red with anger when he seethes, "What the fuck, Cora! You could've fucking killed us."

"You don't get to ignore whatever just happened," I practically shout at him. "Because I'm not going to ignore whatever the fuck that was."

Samuel stares at me with narrow eyes, an angry shade of red covering his face as his nostrils continue to flare with every heavy breath he takes.

"You don't get to lie to me." I shake my head as I say the words, "Police detectives don't shove evidence files in your face or give ominous warnings over nothing, Samuel. So don't fucking tell me it was nothing."

"Fuck, Cora!" He slams a fist into the steering wheel before shifting the car back into drive. "We're not doing this here."

"Sam—"

"You're fucking incessant." He cuts me off as he quickly pulls the car fully to the side of the road. Slamming on the brakes and putting the car back into park, his voice is dark. "You want to do this right now? Fine."

"Samuel, just tell me why a homicide detective is hounding you?"

He doesn't answer me, though. Instead, he only stares at me with his dark eyes.

"Damn it, Samuel. Just fucking answer me. Why is he telling me to be careful around you?"

He continues to stare back at me in silence. With a dark, unwavering gaze, he tenderly brushes the backside of his hand along my cheek. His fingers tangle in my hair as he slides them toward the back of my head.

As though his switch flips, he roughly fists the hair in his hand. He pulls so hard that I yelp from the searing pain in my scalp. He yanks again, leaving our faces only inches apart. So close that his hot, angry breath wafts across my face as he breaths. When he finally breaks his silence, his words hit my skin like ice, "You know why."

My breath sputters at his words, and my brain tries to assemble the puzzle before me quickly.

I know.

I think I've always known.

I'm just afraid to admit it to myself.

"You're a killer…A murderer," I exhale. He doesn't deny it in the slightest. Instead, there's a small glint in his eyes.

"How many?" I try to hide the nervous tremble in my voice.

Fuck, Cora.

Don't be stupid. Just get out of the fucking car.

"A few." His tone is flat and devoid of any emotion. My blood suddenly feels as though I have ice water running through my veins.

"Accidents?" I try to rationalize his answer somehow, knowing full well how rough he likes to play.

"A few," he repeats his previous answer and I'm suddenly filled with disgust.

The things I've done for this man.

The feelings I had—no have—for him.

"Now," he loosens his painfully tight grip on my hair, "do you think you can refrain from doing anything reckless so I can take us home?"

I silently nod my head in agreement.

"Behave, and we can talk about this later," Samuel puts the car into drive and slips his hand along my thigh. He slides it high enough that my dress is resting along my hips. An hour ago, his touch would've been warm and comforting. Now, it's like an icy talon burning his evil through my skin.

It takes every bit of self-restraint to keep from pushing him away during the ten minutes it takes to get to his estate. Not saying anything, on the other hand, is simple because I suddenly feel like I'm sitting beside a stranger.

A dark, murderous stranger.

My heart pounds as we pull through the iron gates, and my stomach drops when I see them close behind us in the side view mirror.

With Samuel's eyes fixated on the winding drive before us, I try to discreetly slip my heels from my feet. Both are resting beneath me when Samuel pulls to a stop at the front steps.

I undo my seatbelt when he grabs for his door handle but resist the urge to open mine. Samuel always gets my door. I won't make it two feet if he realizes what's happening.

Sliding from the driver's seat and climbing out of the door, I take my chance as his back is to me. Gripping the handle, I throw open the door and spring from the car. Not thinking about how I'm going to actually get through it, I run toward the gate.

"You're being reckless, Cora," Samuel calls after me. The playfulness of his tone is absolutely terrifying, and I fight the need to turn back enough to see whether his face mirrors his enjoyment.

My bare feet scrape across the cobblestone drive as I continue sprinting toward the exit—to safety.

"Fuck, Cora!" Samuel yells. "Don't make me fucking do this." His voice is loud, angry, labored.

And so fucking close.

He hits me from behind, with every bit of force expected from a former NFL offensive tackle. His upper body plows into my thighs, and I crumble to the ground. I hit it with such force that it knocks the wind from my lungs. Startled and breathless, I'm helpless as he climbs on top of me.

His massive body is a giant weight on my back, pinning me to the hard bricks beneath me and forbidding me from drawing in the deep breath of air my body so desperately craves.

This is how it ends for me.