All of Me (Confessions of the Heart 2)

Part of me hoped Grace had texted me.

Another was wondering if I’d hear from Mack, my mug plastered all over their alerts, wanted for assault.

Reed’s pride was too bloated to let me get away with it.

I blew out a sigh when I saw that my phone was void of any messages, eyes moving, everything silent except for the howl of the night.

Still, agitation lined my bones. Deep and cold. Filled with dread.

Everything felt . . . off.

I didn’t know if it was the recurrence of that dream, the scars lining my body screaming in agony, or if it was the girl who rested inside that house.

The only thing I knew was I couldn’t sit idle.

I had to do . . . something.

Make the first move.

Not wait around for the bastard to have the upper hand.

I pushed the button to start my car. A spray of headlights lit the road, and I eased by Grace’s house, carefully searching, making sure they were safe before I made a U-turn.

The powerful engine of the Mercedes roared as I accelerated. Streetlamps glared from above, casting the pavement in a hazy white glow, not a soul around as I sped beneath the flash of streetlamps that shined from above.

Had no clue what the fuck I was doing except for crossing all kinds of lines. So many of them, I was sure there was no other outcome than one that was going to be bad.

I was getting myself in so deep there would be no resurfacing.

No reclaiming what I’d worked for. Strived for. Lived for.

Stupid.

Goddamned stupid, but I didn’t know how to stop this out of control train as I flew around a corner, making a sharp right, not even slowing when I did. Tires squealed as I skidded, the rear fishtailing for a second before I caught traction and barreled down the street.

Anxiety climbed with every second. With every mile.

I took a couple more turns the same way, flying through the night like I was invisible.

Invincible.

That’s what it was going to take to win this case.

No fucking fear of what would be waiting for me at the end of the street.

As I approached the ritzy neighborhood, I slowed. I made a left and then a right, thanking God my car didn’t stick out in a place like this.

Here, the houses were set back, surrounded by spiked wrought-iron fences, some surrounded by stone, all fucking pretentious and oozing old money.

The house had been in the Dearborne family for more than a century, Reed’s great grandfather one of the first bankers in the area. Politics had quickly become synonymous with their name. Reed’s father had once been mayor, and Reed seemed all too eager to take it one step farther.

Knowing the prick, he probably just wanted to show him up.

My hands fisted tighter around the steering wheel, my knuckles torn to shreds and starting to scab, a reminder of the sleaze the asshole really was.

Thomas’s voice had become a constant whisper in the back of my head.

Bitches who don’t obey need to bleed.

What the fuck did that even mean?

Didn’t know if it was some chauvinistic bullshit tossed around like banter or some kind of true directive or command.

Probably wasn’t going to find the answer to it by creeping around his house in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t help but drive to his address.

Maybe I’d sit guard.

Cut him off first if the asshole was stupid enough to even think about going back over to Grace’s place.

I eased alongside the estate. It was at least four acres surrounded by a stone wall that was broken by sections of blackened wrought-iron. A passerby would only get blinks of the rambling lawn and expanse of massive, ancient trees that stretched over the property. That and the hint of the grandeur of the white house tucked inside was all a person could see.

Like they got off on the tease. Giving a tiny glimpse to those who weren’t quite good enough to take a look at the whole thing.

My chest fisted.

I hated this pompous shit.

Hated that Grace had been lured into it. Hated that her children were subjected to it.

I pulled to the curb at one of the breaks in the fence, peering into the muted lights that shown through the hedges. I could make out one side of an enormous fountain in the middle of the round drive and the very edge of a step of the front porch.

But it was a shadow off to the side that caught my attention.

I straightened, straining to see through the wisps of darkness that swayed and moved over the property.

What the fuck?

I had to be hallucinating.

Squinting, I angled to get a better look.

My heart took off at a sprint.

I was sure it would be impossible for me to mistake that posture. That overbearing demeanor of the man who stood facing who was clearly Reed Dearborne.