Thorne Princess(105)

It never occurred to me, until he said it, that I looked like a mess. But I’d been roughed up by Kozlov and his assistant, and I’m sure all those thrashes had left marks.

“If we both go down, I would have no regrets,” Kozlov said quietly. “You killed my son.”

“I hate myself every day for it.” For the first time since I’d met him, Ransom’s voice broke. “I think about that boy more than I think about the parents who left me. More than I think about my own goddamn life. But I had no idea. None at all. You put him right in front of me. In harm’s way. What kind of bastard father does that?”

“So…you should be forgiven?” Kozlov huffed, looking resigned. His shoulders drooped, and he seemed fed up and tired all of a sudden.

Both men looked broken.

“No,” Ransom said. “You should trust in my pain. Because I feel it. Every. Single. Fucking. Day.”

Behind Ransom’s back, SWAT team members gathered. Ransom let go of the bodyguard, pushing him forward. He staggered toward Kozlov.

“Game over, Kozlov. Either you come out of here like a dog or in a body bag.”

“Was all this planned?” Kozlov demanded. “Did you want me to kidnap her?”

The mere suggestion made my blood turn to lava. It was possible. Totally possible. Which made me furious.

Ransom shook his head. “I would never do that to her.”

“I don’t believe you have any limits,” said Kozlov.

And, sadly, I shared the sentiment.

Kozlov closed his eyes. All he did to show his submission was a curt, barely-there nod to his bodyguard and soldier in the room.

Ransom stepped aside. The SWAT team stalked in, handcuffing Kozlov and his crew. My eyes followed the men who’d kidnapped me. I was afraid if I blinked, they’d be on top of me again, wrestling me to the floor, hitting me.

“You’re safe now.” His voice seeped into my ear, so close his hot breath caressed the side of my neck.

“You tracked my phone,” I said tonelessly.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I was, and always would be, just another job for Ransom. Perhaps one with perks, but ultimately, I was a notch on his belt.

“I couldn’t chance you getting hurt.” He worked quickly to untie my hands from behind.

I turned to look at him. The anger made my eyes burn. I was shaking with rage.

“I’m officially relieving you of your duties, Mr. Lockwood.”

All around us, feds and SWAT team members were unplugging computers, confiscating documents, tearing down the room.

He searched my face, his own expression rigid and defiant.

“Look, you didn’t give me time to explain.” He helped me stand up, taking special care not to touch me where I’d been whipped. “This shit with Anna…yes, I did sleep with her. But it happened in college. She found me at a hole-in-the-wall a few weeks ago. Tracked me down and tried rekindling something in exchange for information about you. I cut her off. We had a few drinks. She spiked one of mine, I think. Then I stumbled out and caught a cab, cursing at her the entire time. I didn’t touch her. I swear.”

Raising a hand to stop him, I shook my head. “You think I care about you and her?”

He blinked, confused. “Yes?”

Throwing my head back, I let out a laugh.

“Oh, Ransom, you really do think you’re God’s gift to women. I couldn’t give two shits about what you did with Anna.”

That wasn’t exactly the truth, but I had more pressing matters to tend to.

“I care that you had me tracked without telling me. I care that you put my life in danger. That you knew people were after you, that I could get hurt, and still, you put yourself first. I wanted to run away from you in the four hours you gave me to ‘self-reflect’.” I said the last words with air quotes. “You’re not only a terrible human, you’re also a terrible bodyg—sorry, close protection officer.” I rolled my eyes, on a roll now, thinking about all the different ways he was cruel and callous to me. I couldn’t let myself stop now. Or cave in. Allow him to stay. He had to go. He had to. For the safety of my heart. “You’re just awful all around. It’s true, what Dorothy Parker once said. Beauty is skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.”

It killed me to say all of this to him. Especially after he’d confided in me about what he’d done to Kozlov’s son. But I couldn’t allow for mercy to have a place in my heart. He was going to destroy me if he stayed. I had to make him leave.

I snatched my arm away from him, realizing that he’d tried to touch me during my little speech.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said levelly. “You’ve just been through one heck of an ordeal. You need to give a brief statement, and then we’ll get you home.”

I stepped back from him, putting more room between us. “Let’s get it over with.”





I woke up with a start.

My head throbbed. The yolky slivers of the setting sun seeped through my bedroom window, warming my skin.

My body hurt. My head hurt. Everything hurt.

Blinking away sleep, I angled my face toward the clock on my nightstand. Seven o’clock in the evening. My guess was I’d slept through most of yesterday and was waking up to a new day.