Page 85 of Dirty Pool

She nodded. “I got it.”

“But would you leave?”

“What?”

Michel’s hands found her body again, and he rolled her over on the bed. Once again, she was on her back, and he hovered above her. His hands splayed across her rib cage—so strong, and expansive. He could squeeze her body, take her breath away, and she would beg him for more. She wanted everything he gave her.

Including him.

“If we could leave, would you come with me?” he asked.

“Is it that simple?”

“Probably not. It might be a last resort.”

“Okay, and yes.”

Her heart was with him. Her soul, too. What good was a woman without a heart and soul? What would she possibly do with herself if she was left without him, and he had taken those parts of her with him, too?

No, she would have to go.

She would rather die, otherwise.

Michel’s throat jumped at her reply before he dropped a quick kiss to her lips. She smiled under his mouth, but the truth was simpler. In a way … it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing ever was in this life.

She learned that lesson well.

• • •

Gabbie woke up in the bed to chaos. At first, she wasn’t even sure what was going on as she was yanked from her slumber next to Michel with viciousness. She wondered if the scene playing out in the hotel room was a nightmare, or reality.

She wasn’t sure she was even awake.

And then it became painfully clear that yes, she was awake. The men storming the hotel room had familiar faces—one bad sign. Their words as they dragged her out of the bed from the right, and Michel from the left was the second sign.

It happened so fast.

Seconds, really.

Even still, she fought against the hold of the person keeping her away from Michel. She slapped and scratched and spat while the men on the other side of the room slammed Michel against the wall with no care or concern.

“Enough, lass!”

That voice.

That voice she knew so well.

She was still focused in on Michel, but the hands that suddenly landed on her arms squeezed tightly enough to leave bruises behind. She was forced to stare into the eyes of a familiar face instead of the man across the room like she wanted.

“Let her go!” Michel shouted.

His next yell was stopped by one of the men slamming a punch to his gut. Gabbie felt like she had taken that punch, too.

“Stop,” she mumbled.

“Then you leave, lass,” the man holding her said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she found the door had been kicked in. That was likely the noise that woke her up. Still, she felt hazy and confused. Unsteady even as she was pulled to her feet, and a handful of shite was pushed into her hands.