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I'm almost to my car and I can taste victory when an arm wraps around my waist and hoists me high into the air. "Give me your fucking keys," he says in a dark tone that sends chills up my spine.
When I don't comply, he actually flips me until I'm upside down and gives me a shake.
I attempt to kick him in the face as I hear the sound of my loose change hitting the ground. "You're worse than a freaking bully on the playground."
"I'm worse than a lot of things," is his gruff response.
I say a silent prayer that my keys stay in the back pocket of my jeans when he shakes me once more, treating me like I'm a rag doll. I feel the blood begin to rush to my head when I realize the unique predicament I'm in.
Forget trying to kick his face, my head is right by his crotch.
The second my keys fall out of my back pocket is the second I ram my head back with as much force as I can before plunging forward.
"Dammit!" he screams. "You just headbutt my fucking dick."
"Goddamn right I did," I say as he grunts in pain and I feel him start to drop me.
On second thought, this was a terrible idea.
My head's about to hit the concrete when I feel his hand grip the back of my jeans and yank me back.
He bends down and snatches my keys off the ground. I struggle out of his hold as he continues hanging me in the air by my pants like I'm some kind of cat toy.
I dig my nails into his thigh as he walks over to the passenger side of my car before tossing me inside.
He kneels down beside me and stares at me for a beat before he says, "Here's the deal—don't talk to me, don't look at me, and don't attempt to do anything stupid while I'm driving. Got it?"
I raise my middle finger in response and he slams the car door.
The sooner he drives us back to the apartment complex the better.
He sticks the key in the ignition and floors it, muttering something about Ferrari's being stupid under his breath.
I'm about to tell him to shut up and keep driving but then, 'I'll Stand by You," comes on the radio.
We both reach for the radio at the same time and pause. We lock eyes and a rush of heat runs through me, bringing along beautiful memories between us that my heart refuses to let me forget.
"How did we end up here?" I choke out, not realizing I've said the words out loud until it's already too late.
He swallows hard and shuts the radio off. His hand grazes mine and lingers, his skin sending little bolts of electricity throughout me. Then he pulls his hand back, almost like the contact burned him.
He steps on the gas until he's flying into the parking lot across the street from the apartment complex.
When he shuts the car off his jaw locks and he grips the steering wheel.
His adam’s apple bobs and his stare penetrates me."You know damn well how we ended up here, Lou-Lou."
Even though his tone is laced with malice, his eyes are full of hurt and betrayal.
"I—" I start, even though I have no idea what I'm going to say. Because there's nothing I can say. At least, not right now.
"Don't you dare," he says. "Don't you fucking sit there and try to say some shit to make me feel bad for you. Because I'm telling you right now...it's not going to work this time."
I feel as though I've been slapped in the face. "Is that what you think I did? You think I confided in you back then to make you feel bad for me?"
For a moment he almost looks like he wants to take it back but that only makes me even angrier. "You think I told you things about myself and exposed all the ugly parts in order to get your pity? To get one over on you?"
His turns in his seat to face me. "I don't know. Did you? Because it fucking worked."
"Fuck you," I shout. "I hate you."
He slams the steering wheel. "I know you do!" he roars. "You made that pretty fucking clear the moment you smashed my heart into a thousand fucking pieces and married him!" His face twists in pain as he continues, "You fucking married him and you—" He clenches his fist. "Agreed to go along with a plan to kill me."
He slams the steering wheel again. "So if you really want to know how we ended up here...look in the fucking mirror."
He leans back in his seat and rubs his face. "I have been wracking my fucking brain trying to figure out what I did to you...why my love wasn't enough for you."
He bows his head and I feel what's left of my heart fold in on itself. "I thought I could mend you, show you what it was like to be loved the right way...but I couldn't," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "But, God...I wanted to."
His words cut me open and I want to tell him that his love was the best thing that ever happened to me...but his expression turns tense and his body goes rigid before he says, "But none of that matters anymore. The only thing that matters right now is that someone I consider my brother is lying in a hospital bed."
He leans in close to my face. "And If I find out you had anything to do with what happened to Tyrone tonight—or if you knew something was going down and you didn't tell me—"
A tsunami of guilt barrels into me right before I blurt out, "I think it was my fault."
He grabs both my wrists so tight I hiss. "What?" he roars so loud I'm surprised my ears don't start bleeding. "What the fuck did you do?"
"I—" I gulp back tears. "He came over to my apartment the other day. And um—I ended up falling asleep for a short while and my phone rang."
He lets go of my wrists. "And? Spit it out, Lou-Lou!"
"DeLuca called multiple times and Tyrone ended up seeing a text from him where he called me his wife."
"Shit," he mutters.
"Yeah...he obviously got spooked and started freaking out. And I—"
"You what?" he grits through his teeth.
"I kind of ended up spilling the beans about DeLuca sending me here to purposely seduce you all. But I also told him that you protected him...without revealing your identity to him. And before he left, I swore to him that he was off DeLuca's radar now and he was safe," I finish without stopping for air.
"You fucking bitch," he screams and I gape at him. "Were you trying to purposely screw with his head by telling him that he was once on DeLuca's radar in the first place?"
He punches the window and it spiderwebs. "You were setting him up to get killed! Weren't you?"
I shake my head. "What? No—"
"Just like you set me up ," he continues as I sit there appalled.
"Look I care about Tyrone," I interject.
"Just like you care about me?"
"Yes," I admit. "I—"
He laughs so low and deadly it gives me goosebumps. "Jesus Christ, you're a warped fucking mess," he says cutting me off. "I hope you never end up becoming a mother because knowing you...you'll set your own kid up to get killed one day."
My heart stops, everything freezes, and I feel the pressure start to rise...right before something deep within me cracks.