Objective (Bloodlines #2)(44)

“Shit, you’re really hurt,” I squawk and open the cabinet over the sink for my Band-Aid stash.

“And you aren't,” he grumbles.

“Why would you think that I was?” I ask opening a Band-Aid.

“You were screaming bloody murder, Mags, like, blood-curdling screams.” He shudders, unbuttoning his shirt enough to reveal his shoulder and I wipe away the blood with a clean rag before applying the Band-Aid.

“It was a dream. I’m fine,” I explain. He covers my hand at the Band-Aid with his large rough palm and gently squeezes.

“Did you have time to think? Cause I’d really like to get to the part where we talk about the fact that we had really amazing sex.” He grins up at me, looking so handsome.

“I didn’t. I took a nap. I’ll call you, okay?” He releases my hand as his face falls. “I work tonight, too. So, I’ll see you later?” He nods, stands and pulls me into a tight bear hug.

“Please, Mags, try to understand,” he whispers into my hair before letting me go. I want to tell him that I do understand. How could I not? I’ve lied to everyone I know here so how can I possibly hold that against him? I don’t say anything though. Our relationship started in silence and it seems apropos to feel that silence once again. Look what happened when we started talking. Shit hit the proverbial fan and now we’re in some strange place that I’m not sure how to recover from.

Bentley leaves and for the next three hours I’m alone with my thoughts while I shower and get ready for my shift. I’m not due to leave for another hour so I indulge in two fingers of bourbon before work. I open the door and plop down in the Adirondack chair to enjoy the fresh air while I drink.

I set my glass down on the arm when a box resting on the arm of the empty chair next to me catches my eye. It’s a jeweler’s ring box, small, velvet and square. My hands tremble mildly as I lift the lid and a stunning solitaire engagement ring rests inside. Bentley has lost his marbles if he thinks this is okay.

A small corner of paper peeks from the lining of the lid. I pull it out. Brown’s Jewelers. I know that name. It’s familiar to me but I can’t place it. The ring was expensive and below the astronomical price is the date. Thirteen months and four days ago. Three days before I shot him. The address on it local to Cane and my old apartment. Impossible. Could this be true? Was he going to propose? My heart seizes as I pull the ring from the box and inspect it further. It’s absolutely one that I would have picked for myself. The evening light catches the inside of the band.

Baby girl, If there's anyone I could love, it's you.

There are no words for the pain that pierces my heart as I make out the inscription. I’m stunned and mad as hell. This kind of warfare is beyond cruel and I wasn’t prepared for Ezra to be any crueler than I had experienced firsthand. My world is unravelling as I stare at the box with the beautiful ring in it. I snap the lid closed on the box and hurl it across the yard while letting out a shrill scream. My world is imploding and I can’t see an exit strategy. In a fit of grief and rage I swipe the glass from the arm of the chair with the back of my hand, sending it shattering to the ground. I stand up and kick the chair over. I can’t take the mind games. “If you want me just take me!” I scream before storming into the trailer.

I tear every glass one by one from the cupboard and smash them against the opposite wall. When the glasses are gone I move on to the plates. I can’t stop the barrage of tears that rolls down my cheeks. Why did that day even happen? Why, after four years, did Ezra come after me that night? Why didn’t Cane yell and scream when he came in the door and saw me with his gun? I throw a plate towards the door, failing to see Bentley standing there. He ducks and the plate shatters into a million pieces just behind him. I don’t stop. I can't. I pick up another one, poised to hurl it, when Bentley rushes me, tackling me to the floor. We land with a pair of grunts and a thud.

“Get off!” I wail at him. “I’m done! DONE! I thought I could survive anything after what he did to me but this...this is beyond cruel!” Tears stream from my eyes without signs of stopping. Bentley squeezes me tightly, holding me firmly to him but it doesn’t seem to ease the tornado of emotions ripping me apart.

“What happened?” he asks through my sobbing.

“Engagement ring,” I mumble “There was an engagement ring with the receipt on the chair waiting for me. From before I left. He had it before I...”

“Are your video feeds live and recorded?” he interrupts me while brushing a strand of hair from my face. Something sparks in me at his question.

“Recorded.” I elbow him off and jump up, hauling ass to the bedroom. It takes me a moment fiddling with the control on the panel below the monitors before I remember how to rewind but when I do I feel an inkling of hope.

“Stop. There!” Bentley barks. I do as I’m told and play back the feed. The lighting isn’t the best, since it’s dusk out, and the culprit is in jeans and black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head.

“Dammit!” I cry out in frustration.

“Look at the hands, Mags. Ezra has tattoos across his hands.” I dart my eyes to the monitor and pause the video. No tattoos.

“He sent someone for me. Coward couldn't even do his own dirty work,” I grind out, irritation flaring again. I feel like I’m losing control of myself.