“A woman knows when a man loves her. Not because of what he spends on her, but what he gives her. And Jamie would give you everything. His full attention, his protection…and his freedom. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, Shannon…but I know he’s struggling with not talking to you.”
Shannon pressed her forehead to the window.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’d trade everything I have—everything I am—just to undo what protecting me has cost him.”
The sob escaped before she could swallow it down. Her hand covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling.
“Killing Niall was an accident. No one will miss him.” Shannon shook her head. “And god damn him… Even in death, that bastard still managed to ruin my life.”
She turned to Lana, eyes glassy.
“I’m in love with Jamie, and I don’t know how to do this without him. Even though I’ve lost Harry, the yard, Trixie, and now my career, the pain of losing Jamie… that’s the worst. I’ve got this hole in my chest and nothing can fill it.”
Lana reached over and took Shannon’s hand, squeezing.
“You haven’t lost your career, or him,” Lana said. “Marcus will handle it. He always comes through for him.”
Shannon shook her head. “He killed Niall, Lana. They’re going to lock him up and throw away the key. And I can’t even ride anymore.”
A ragged sob burst from her chest. She pressed her forehead to Lana’s shoulder, not wanting to break but unable to stop it.
“I need him,” she whispered. “Now more than ever.”
“Marcus will bring him home to you, Shannon. I promise.” Lana hugged her. “Just breathe.”
“If he doesn’t…then I’ll?—”
Her voice broke.
Shannon’s hand drifted to her stomach, instinctive and trembling. She folded forward, cradling herself like a child bracing for a storm, arms wrapping around her body as though she could hold everything together by force alone.
“Shannon.” Lana stroked her back. “What are you not telling me? Why can’t you ride anymore? Are you sick?”
“I’m pregnant.” Shannon didn’t lift her head, her voice a breathy whisper. “Jamie’s gonna be a daddy.”
48
Jamie
His security team had dragged him away from the murder scene before he could promise her he’d be there for her until the bitter end.
The blood and dead body he’d left behind were nothing compared to the haunting image burned into his mind.
He left her.
One chopper flew her in the opposite direction toward the hospital, unconscious and cradled by his security team.
While the other whisked him away, fists bloodied, rage simmering beneath his skin.
It had to be that way.
When he arrived at the police station, Marcus was already there, suit pressed, jaw tight, barking down the phone with their legal team.
They spent the entire night behind closed doors. Jamie, Marcus, two lawyers, three detectives, and aweary-looking coroner who did the autopsy on Niall Ross thrashed it out.
Now, hours later, Jamie was a free man. No charges. No cuffs. No fucking regrets.
His conscience was clean. His heart…not so much.
