Forbidden (Blood Ties #7)

He lifted his hand, his fingers outstretched as though he wanted to touch me. But then he curled his fingers and pulled away.

“Wait!” I called as he stepped away from the bed and turned toward the doorway.“WAIT!”

He was gone from the room in an instant, only the thud of his sneakers left behind.

“He’s not real!”I screamed.“He’s NOT REAL!”

But my pleas were useless. The deep snarl of an engine came seconds later. He was gone…and I was still naked trying to understand…who the fuck was he going to kill?

TEN

Riven

Michael DiAngelo.

Michael DiAngelo.

MICHAEL DIANGELO!

I climbed back in behind the wheel of the Range Rover and pressed the button to start the engine. But I didn’t put the vehicle into gear, not yet. Instead, I lifted my gaze to the doorway and clenched my fists around the wheel. Rage pumped through my veins and pulsed at my temple.

She’d almost escaped.

I shook my head.

She’d almost…

I reached forward, shoved the four-wheel drive into reverse, and backed out of the driveway. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere, now or ever. I pulled up the name on my cell. It didn’t take long to find him. Michael DiAngelo, who worked as a teacher for St. Augustine Elementary in Preston, was about as fucking boring as watching paint dry…and was also married.

I sucked in a hard breath and turned the vehicle toward the middle-income suburb.

He’s not real!

Lie.

Did he really mean that much to her? Enough that she’d risk her own goddamn life to save him?

Did she really mean that much to me?

I winced, avoiding my own gaze in the mirror and left my suburb behind. Cars on the road blurred into one. Those hunched behind the wheels were meaningless. All I saw was him. Forty-three, overweight, soft brown eyes and a beard that looked like it hadn’t seen the inside of a barber shop in years.

That’s the man she wanted?

The man she preferred…over me.

I pulled the address up on my phone and punched it into the car’s GPS. It wasn’t my usual ride, but thanks to Trouble, I didn’t have that option anymore. I followed the streets, scanning front yards littered with children’s bikes and abandoned balls, pulling up at one of the few houses that actually lookedneat.

Too neat.

I scowled, eyeing the beaten ten-year-old blue Mazda sitting in the driveway, and grabbed my cell. It was the same car I’d found on his social media profile. The same one he stood in front of with his wife as they started their fourteen-mile hike in the Rockies. The same car I stared at now.

I reached forward and stabbed the button on the glove compartment. As the door dropped open, I reached inside and pulled out my gun.

She called someone, Mr. Cruz.Maria’s words rose.I think it was a man…but I cannot be certain.

I shoved the glove compartment closed and opened the car door, stepping out.

Was it Michael?My own desperate tone followed.