Marney tosses a bank bag across the counter. “There’s your damn cartel money.”
I unzip the pouch, take a stack of bills, and chuck it to the bar top. “And there’s your cut of the damn cartel money.”
Shaking his head, he pockets the cash. “If I had any morals, I wouldn’t take it.”
One of the girls walks in from the front, carrying a vase of magnolias in her arms. The uneven beat of my pulse forces the music to the background when she places it on the counter. She pops her gum before swiping a finger over one of the thick, white petals. “Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, JP.” Then she struts off behind the bar.
Marney’s concerned gaze lands on me seconds before I snatch the white card from the middle of the bouquet.
Jude.
For your lovely lady.
Tom
I stare at the message—the same one he sent my father days before my mother and sister died—and ideas click together like the cogs of a clock. Nietzsche said, “To live is to suffer,” and that’s exactly what Tom did to my father. He didn’t kill him because the only suffering in death is for the living. Is that why Tom sent Tor to me? To make me suffer when I failed to protect her? Anger tears through me like a riptide. I snatch the card from the flowers, then shove up from the stool. I cut the girl off just before she reaches the hallway. “Where did you get those?”
“A delivery guy was at the front door when I came in.” Her brows wrinkle. “Why?”
Shaking my head, I move around her, already fishing my keys from my pocket. He knows where the club is, and I’m terrified he knows where the house is. I take my phone and dial Caleb’s number on my way out the bar's front door.
“Tom just sent me flowers. Lock the gate and watch the drive. And don’t say anything to Tor.”
He’s not getting Tor. No matter what I have to do to protect her.
I had Marney close down the bar, and I sent my men to patrol the grounds around the house while I tended to business—a business that will ensure she’s safe and rip my heart clean out of my damn chest. I put my truck in park and cut the engine, staring at the manilla envelope in my passenger seat. A New Zealand passport, forged college transcripts, and a medical diploma awarded to one Tor Pearson. It’s the best I can do to give her the life she deserves. The best I can do to hope she understands how much I care about her and that she’ll never forget me. On a sigh, I grab it and get out of the truck, taking two porch steps at a time as I head to the door.
The smell of spices hit me when I step inside the house. Tor’s in the kitchen, fanning the smoke away from a pan. Caleb’s by the window, worry etched on his face. When he turns to face me, his gaze swings to the kitchen for a second. “What are you going to do, Jude?”
“The only thing I can.” My throat tightens at the thought of letting her go, but I fight the uncomfortable feeling back. I would rather give up every day of the rest of my life with her and know she’s safe than spend one more selfish night with her in my arms. “She has a flight to New Zealand at five in the morning. West is dropping off a patrol car at county road ten. You’re gonna trade out cars and take her to the airport at three.”
His eyes go soft with the pending loss. “Jude…”
“I have a new identity for her.” I hold up the envelope. “I’ve set everything up for her there. All you have to do is get her on that plane.”
His chin drops to his chest, and an uneven breath leaves his lungs. “Okay.” His hand slaps over my shoulder, pity filling his gaze before he walks away.
I linger in the kitchen doorway for a second, watching Tor. So carefree because she thinks she’s safe. She believes I can keep her safe. But I can’t, not while she’s with me. When she turns and smiles at me, it fucking hurts.
“Hey. You okay?” She moves closer, her smile dampening.
I pull the florist card from my pocket, placing it in Tor’s palm. “This is a warning. It’s the same one he sent my father two days before he killed my mother and sister.”
She doesn’t move; she doesn’t glance up. I sweep my hand over her cheek and force her to look at me. “You have to leave, Tor.” Those words are like thorns in my throat.
Tears well in her eyes as she shakes her head.
“You have a flight tomorrow morning. To New Zealand. I’ve set everything up for—”