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Rude. Not only does he intend to kill me, but he also wants to rob me?
Laughter bubbles out of my chest unbidden. “You can go fuck yourself, Marco. I squirreled away that money to ensure my freedom from you and your father if things went south.”
“And left me high and dry in the process. Seriously. We’re married, for fuck’s sake.”
I laugh harder this time. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word. And no, I’m not telling you where my stash is. It’s not my fault you haven’t got the foresight to take care of yourself.”
He grunts and gets up, walks toward the barn door and returns a moment later, dragging Cora by her bound hands.
I lurch forward, but he holds out a gun and I stop. “You might not share the location of your stash for my sake, but if I know you at all, I bet you’ll tell me where it is to save this old broad.”
Cora whimpers, recoiling from the muzzle of Marco’s gun when he points it at her. To see her so scared hurts my heart. Dried blood stains her silver hair dark. She’s also scraped up, and we still don’t know what happened to Connor.
And all of this is my fault.
“Fine. Leave Cora alone and I’ll take you to the main house and get you my money.”
Marco flashes me a cocky smile. “That’s what I thought you’d say. But no, the old girl comes with us. If you try anything, she’ll pay the price.”
I hurry to get to my feet, the crack to my head making me both nauseous and unsteady. With a hand to the wooden wall, I steady myself. I can be woozy later. Right now, I’ve got my psychotic husband to outsmart.
And outsmart him, I will.
Because where he climbed the ranks because of Daddy Milton’s influence and money, I got there because I’m resourceful and don’t back down.
My hands tremble as I search for the UTV key in my pocket and then drop into the driver’s seat of the side-by-side. The vehicle is meant for two, but has a bucket area behind the seats for carrying things.
It likely wasn’t intended to be where lunatics with guns shove lovely old ladies, but Cora is loaded into the trunk area and Marco slides in beside me. He points the gun at my side and grins. “Now, let’s get my money.”
The engine roars to life, a burst of noise in the quiet of the night. I grip the steering wheel, each breath a conscious effort to keep my panic at bay, as I drive across the property.
My mind races, plotting desperately how best to get help, how to secure Cora’s safety, and how to handle Marco without escalating the situation further.
I steer the buggy along the sprawling property, searching for any guards out under the moonlight. Did Tag assign all his men to cover the charity fight?
Is anyone even here?
Yes. Tag told me if anything happened tonight, I was to hit the panic button inside the door and Andrew would come with a team.
With that in mind, I park right in front of the side door and jump out, my legs shaky but still holding me. I jangle the keys as if I need to unlock things and hurry to the door.
While Marco struggles to navigate Cora from the back of the buggy and into the side door, I rush ahead, open the door, and hit the panic button on the wall. My heart pounds against my ribs as I press it, holding my breath, half-expecting sirens to blare and give me away.
But nothing happens—no sound, no immediate sign that I’ve signaled a desperate SOS.
Relief floods through me, though it’s tempered by the gnawing fear of what Marco might do next.
Marco is there in another racing heartbeat, panting and searching the foyer with fury in his eyes. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I opened the door.”
His gaze narrows, but he doesn’t hear the lie in my voice. He never could tell when I was lying to him. Unlike Tag, who seems to have a direct tap into reading my thoughts and emotions.
The thought of Tag bolsters my bravery.
I’ve sent the distress call. He’ll either know or be notified there’s trouble and will race back here. I’m not alone. Help is on the way.
Marco drops Cora to the foyer floor and holds the gun pointed down at her. “I’m tired of this game, Madelaine. You have no idea what I’ve been through because of you.”
