Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

With him, though, it didn't haunt me, because the sad truth is, I didn't love him enough to fight for.

Not the way I love Noah.

"This is torture," I whisper. "And you're right." I stand up as she sits down, and now it's my turn to pace. "I am a fighter. I pulled out all the stops to get that Stark contract, and then Darla came waltzing back into town, and suddenly I'm back in Los Angeles all those years ago. And she's running to him again, and she has a kid again.

"And I'm sitting on my ass again," I continue, "not doing a thing. And damn sure not fighting."

"Do you honestly think it's the same this time?" she asks. "Do you truly believe he'll leave you?"

"Yes. No." I drag my fingers through my disheveled hair in a very Noah-like manner. "I don't know. My heart can't believe it, but my head can't help but fear it. And either way, I'm pissed off. Because he's making the rules, and I'm sure he thinks he's protecting me, but that's not what he gets to do. If we're a couple, then we need to be a couple."

"And there you go," Celia says smugly. "That's the fight."

"Yes," I say, looking blankly around the room, not even sure what I'm searching for. And then I realize. "Where's my purse? I can't get to Oklahoma without my purse."

"Oh," she says innocently. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm going to be there to support him, to help him, whether he wants me to or not. His goddamn guilt be damned."

"Good for you."

"And if we're not still a couple--"

"Don't even go there," she says, sticking her fingers in her ears.

I smirk and stay quiet. But in my head, I make a pledge. He's not getting rid of me that easily. This is a fight I intend to win. And if he even thinks about trying to leave me . . . well, he's going to damn well tell me to my face.

23

"I can't believe this is happening." Kiki's words came in uneven gasps, forced out past her tears.

"I have to," he said. "I have to do the right thing."

"You do." Her earnest brown eyes were fixed on him. "Please, Noah, please do the right thing."

She lifted her hand, reaching for him, but he couldn't hold onto her. The diamond engagement ring flashed, and it seemed to him that every sparkle cut him like glass, slicing his hand until it bled.

He tried to hold tight to her hand, but the blood was too slippery. And every time he grasped her, she slipped further away, until they were looking at each other across a wide pool of blood.

Noah woke with a start in the too-soft motel bed. He'd arrived at the rundown motel outside of Oklahoma City yesterday evening, but it had been too late to visit Darla even if he'd wanted to.

He hadn't.

Eventually, yes. Soon, even.

In just a few hours, he'd have to get his head on straight. Then he'd pull on clothes, slip on his shoes. He'd have to go through all the motions of a normal morning on a morning that was the farthest thing from normal. A morning where ghosts and fears and everything he thought he'd gotten past were right back beside him again. Telling him he owed her. That Darla was his responsibility, and it was on his head to make it right for her.

And Kiki--oh, dear God, he wanted her beside him. Wanted her hand in his, her strength flowing through him.

But at the same time, he didn't want her seeing him like this. Lost and ripped open. All hi

s old wounds exposed. The guilt that had dulled, now sharp and fresh again.

Guilt for taking Darla to Mexico. For losing her.

And, now that he knew she was alive, the hard, bitter guilt of failure. The raw, painful tearing of his gut, punishing him because he hadn't done enough. Telling him that if he'd spent just a few more hours--tried just a little harder--he would have saved her years ago.

It was true, goddammit. He'd given up. He'd held Diana's tiny body, and he'd been certain that Darla had been murdered, too.