Page 73 of Mack

Nothing. Just dark road and the occasional set of headlights that turned off well before her street. She pulled into her driveway, cut the engine, and sat for a moment as she’d been doing all week.

Porch light on. Yard quiet. She got out.

She was reaching for her keys when she heard the creak of the porch steps and her stomach dropped before she’d even looked up.

Troy sat in the chair by her front door like he’d been there for hours. That was why he’d left the parking lot before her. He wanted to beat her home.

“Get off my porch.”

“We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” She stayed at the bottom of the steps, keys in her hand, phone in her coat pocket. “Leave.”

“The deputy.” He leaned forward with that flat stare she’d spent years trying to read. “You need to end it.”

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“End it. Tell him you’re done, that it’s not working, whatever you need to say. I don’t care how you do it.” He stood slowly. “But it ends.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I do.”

“I’m telling you.” He came to the top of the steps. “Because if you don’t, I’ll deal with him myself. And I promise you, Mallory, it won’t be a conversation.”

She held her ground, looked at him, and felt the old fear move through her like cold water. She knew what he was capable of. She’d seen it up close.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said quietly, coming down another step. “For a woman standing alone in the dark.”

“Troy—”

“He was a US Marshal. I know that.” He tilted his head. “You think that impresses me? Men like that think the badge protects them off duty too.” He smiled. “It doesn’t.”

She thought about Mack. About T.J. shaking his hand. About the snowman in the front yard and his coat wrapped around her son on horseback.

Troy watched her face and she knew he saw it. He’d always been good at reading her. That was how he’d controlled her for so long.

“End it,” he said. “Or I will.”

She shook her head, her heart already breaking at the thought of never seeing Mack again. But when Troy grabbed her arm, she looked at him and saw nothing but evil. Evil that terrified her more than anything in the world.

“Troy—” She gasped when his hand went around her throat, pushing her back against the house.

“You will end this, Mal. I’m not fooling around about this. If you even try to get a restraining order, it will come to a head sooner than you think. Do you doubt me?”

She shook her head, then nodded. She knew she didn’t have a choice.

“Okay.” The word cost her everything.

Troy looked at her for a long moment, then nodded, satisfied.

“Smart girl.” He walked off the porch, crossed the road, and climbed into his pickup without another word.

She stood on the porch until he was gone, then went inside and turned every lock on the door.

Then she sat on the floor with her back against the door and pressed her hands over her face.

She was going to have to let Mack go. The thought of it was almost worse than the fear.

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