I stumbled more than once, trying to keep up while wearing heels. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here.” He shook his head, cursing under his breath.
I tugged back on my arm, yanking it free. He turned, annoyed, and reached for me again.
“No! What happened? Who called you?”
His face scrunched. “Noah called. Tom Preston was shot at lunch.”
I gasped. “Is he okay?”
“He’s alive, for now.”
Stunned silence took hold. What were we going to do?
“Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“I have to call Jack.”
I handed it over and got lost in my thoughts as he talked to Jack and our pace picked back up. I didn’t understand before, when we met, when I was told, my own naiveté clouding everything. It wasn’t just Nathan they were after. Everyone involved was marked.
A chill moved down my spine. Would they ever stop? I knew the answer—it was clear as day.
When we were all dead.
CHAPTER 25
Nathan was silent, his grip on my hand tight on the walk back to the office. It all began to settle in that we’d reached the finale. My chest clenched and I leaned into him as we rode the elevator up.
He refused to let go of me. The office exploded in murmurs—hushed whispers, scared faces, and pointed fingers.
Nathan stopped mid-step and let go of my hand, reaching across my body instead and gripping my arm. It was too tight, panicked. I looked up, and in front of his office door stood a figure.
The man had slick-backed, midnight black hair, deep age lines carved into his clean-shaven face. He had to be at least sixty, if not seventy. The black suit he wore was not off the rack and probably cost a small fortune.
Nathan positioned himself in front of me, blocking me from the stranger, but I could still see. The man’s stance screamed elite—legs apart, spine straight, hands in his pockets. He radiated arrogance as his cold eyes surveyed me with an odd curiosity. Our eyes met and his lip twitched, and what looked like a combination of cruelty and excitement flashed.
A shiver ran through me, and my heart began to hammer in my chest. My flight response screamed in terror, pulsing the danger signal through every cell.
I’d never seen a picture of him, but I was certain the man in front of us was Vincent Marconi himself.
Nathan tensed, his muscles strained tight and shaking with suppressed energy. “Stop looking at her.” The edge in his tone as he snapped surprised me. “What do you want?”
The anger-filled, intense feeling emanating from Nathan was suffocating. I’d seen him angry before, but the strength was crushing me—a whole new level of emotion.
Vincent’s lips curled up, the cruelty I’d seen before shining through in his false, mocking show. “Ah, Nathan, what a pleasure it is to see you again.”
“Vincent,” Nathan growled. “What can I do for you?”
My airway restricted as my theory was confirmed. The floor began to fall away and the world slipped as my knees weakened. I could barely stand from the weight of it all.
“I just came by to see how you were doing after that horrible accident you were in a few years ago.” His fake concern dripped from his voice. “Terrible, really, to be filled with so much titanium and other metals to hold your shattered body together.”
I grabbed onto the back of Nathan’s jacket, fisting it, anchoring me to him. The man who’d broken him stood in front of us, wanting to do it all again.
His body hardened even more—a rock bracing for the coming wave. “As you can clearly see, I’m getting by.”
“And your poor, poor wife. Pregnant, wasn’t she? To lose all of your family. Tragic, really. Rumor has it you have remarried.” Vincent’s gaze flickered back to me.
I locked my knees, fighting to stay strong and not let him see my weakness.
With that comment, Nathan’s hand reached out and pushed me so he was standing fully in front of me.
“Is that her?” Vincent asked, fake curiosity dripping from his tone.
Nathan’s arm shook as I peeked to look around his shoulder again.
“Hello, Mrs. Thorne, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Vincent extended his hand.
His whole demeanor and the conversation didn’t sit well with me, and the prospect of touching him sent chills through my body. I leaned into Nathan for support.
“She has nothing to do with this. Leave her alone.”
Vincent gave Nathan that smile again. “Nathan, don’t be rude. I only stopped by today to see how you were doing after all this time. Nothing more.” Vincent sighed, as if put off. “However, I see you remain as arrogant and rude as you always were. Therefore, I’ll take my leave.” He nodded at me, a strange hunger as he looked me over. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Thorne.”
His stance, his tone, his presence was a threat.
Nathan’s hands were balled into tight fists, shaking as a low growl vibrated through him.
Vincent chuckled before giving his final goodbye and sauntering down the hall away from us. We both stared after him, as did the entire office. The moment the elevator doors closed and he was gone, Nathan yanked on my arm, moving us down the hall.
“Get your purse.”
“What?”
His jaw twitched. “We’re leaving. We’re not staying here.”
The tension was still high, his grip tight, barely letting me get my things before pulling me down the hall. All eyes were on us as we made our way to the elevators, and their own fear could be seen—their pity.
Nathan sped through the streets on the way home, his eyes constantly checking the mirrors to see if anyone was following us. I’d never seen him so shaken, but Vincent Marconi’s visit had him on a whole new level of paranoid and freaking out. When we arrived home, he quickly ushered us to the elevator. As soon as we were in the door, he was running to the bedroom.
When I caught up, he was pulling our suitcases down from the closet and throwing them on the bed. The pace as he moved back and forth from the dresser, the closet, and the bed, depositing clothes as he went, was frightening.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going. Leaving now.”
I shook my head. “We can’t just leave.”
“Yes, we can, and we are.” He pulled open the dresser, grabbing handfuls of stuff, paying no attention to what it was. “It’s the only way I can protect you.”
I shook my head and set my hands on my hips, digging my heels into the floor. “There has to be another way.”
“Unless Vincent Marconi drops dead, there isn’t.”
“It could happen.”
His jaw flexed, teeth mashing together. “I’m not taking a chance on if.”
“Nate, we need to form a plan. We can’t just take off.”
“Damn it! Why won’t you fucking listen to me?”
“Because you’re being unreasonable.” My fingers flexed against my hips.
“No, I’m not.” The volume of his voice increased, almost to the point of yelling. His eyes hardened. “I’ve warned you about my past.”
“You’re just going to leave your family?”
His motions halted. He stood stone still for a moment, then grabbed my phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
“Mom, I need you to pack your bags… The Marconi… Mom, please don’t argue.”
I snatched the phone from his hands. “Sarah, we’ll call you back.”
I forced down my own anxiety as I stared at my husband’s frantic behavior.
“I’ll call Darren, you work on calming him.” The worry in her voice could be heard
I nodded, not that she could see. “Talk to you soon.”