Page 127 of The Finish Line
“I’ve got it, boss,” my new hire, Alena, announces as the distinct sound of a familiar engine sounds in the parking lot, drawing every eye toward the source of the noise. A second later, Tobias pulls to a screeching halt just in front of the doors and the hairs on my arms rise and panic sinks in. Too far from my Beretta, I scan the restaurant for anyone who might seem a threat. In the next second, he’s out of the Camaro looking both tortured and devastating in dark-washed jeans, a black T-shirt, and matching cardigan that showcases every inch of muscle in his tension-filled shoulders. But it’s the purpose in which he walks and the expression on his face that has me on high alert. When he charges through the door, all chattering ceases. I nearly jump out of my skin when Marissa sounds up behind me.
“Oh shit, girl. What did you do?”
He’s pure intimidation. His fire-filled eyes find mine across the counter as he prowls toward me, jaw set and hellfire running rampant in his eyes. He stalks toward me and rounds the counter, no fucks given about the spectacle he’s making. Swallowing, I brace myself for a fight when he reaches me, his eyes flitting with emotions I can’t pinpoint. Chest heaving, he looks like he’s about to burst at the seams as he stares down at me, demanding explanation but asking for none. I nearly flinch when he holds out his hand.
“Come with me.” His voice is hoarse as if he’s been screaming the entirety of the ride here.
“Tobias, I’m working.”
He nods over my shoulder to Marissa, and I follow his line of sight to see her grinning like a lunatic.
Traitor.
“She’ll be out for the rest of the day.”
“Tobias,” I begin to protest when he grips the back of my head and bends so we’re eye to eye, his tumultuous gaze tearing a hole right through my resolve. This isn’t the same man I kissed goodbye this morning. This is the very man who tore through my soul with a kiss the second time we met.
“Not debatable.” He scoops me off my feet in a fireman’s hold as more objections fly out my mouth and light laughter echoes around us. I’m barely able to sputter out quick orders as Marissa assures me that she’s got it handled while he carries me out of the restaurant. Opening the car door with ease, despite my weight, he deposits me in the Camaro, and a second later, we’re tearing out of the parking lot. Locked into the seat by speed alone, I can’t help but admire the sheer beauty of his profile and the power he exudes as he transitions the car easily from one gear to the next.
“What the hell is going on?” My words come out a muddled mix of fear and demand.
He jerks his head toward me, cutting off my protest, his jaw set grimly, his eyes swimming with resolution. Though the picture of control, I can feel him coming apart next to me.
He takes a curve at neck-breaking speed and then a quick right onto the road that leads to my house. He remains mute as a thousand or more scenarios behind his upset race through my mind just before he skids to a stop in the driveway. Before I can blink, he’s pulling me from the car and leading me into the house with his hand on my wrist. I fumble with my words as he unlocks the door.
“Tobias—”
Once inside, he presses me against it and gazes down at me.
“Explain yourself, right now, King. What happened?”
“What happened?” His tone is gravel. “I lost you. I fucking lost you. And I won’t do it again.”
I search his face for any clue as to what brought this on when my attention falls on the packed duffle bag sitting just a few feet away. He follows my line of sight and turns back to me, his intent clear.
He’s ready for this fight.
“DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME!” The voice is mine, the plea is from me, but it’s not my heart speaking. It’s my soul that’s screaming now.
“I have to. It’s just a few days. I’ll be back—”
“No!” I shake my head furiously. “No!”
“Trésor—” his voice wavers slightly—“please, look at me.” He’s fully intent on leaving me. I turn my head as the blow penetrates so deep, I’m unable to breathe. But something inside me cracks as I manage to find my fight, my body blistering with outrage.
“You promised we would make our decisions together. You promised never to leave me!”
“And you promised to let me protect you. A promise above all others.”
“No! A promise to you above all others I’ve made, not the promises you made to me. You’re not getting away with this. If you walk out this door, we’re done. You walk out this door. I won’t ever let you back in. Not ever.”
“I have to. I have to. And you have to trust me.”
I shake my head, incredulous. “You’re never going to stop breaking my heart, are you? You’re never going to stop lying to me!” I feel it then, the walls threatening to go up, and he can sense it too because I hear the pained grunt escape him as he presses in to try and get the response he wants.
“I have no choice, listen to me.” It’s an order. An order from the man who forced himself into my heart years ago. It’s my resurrected King speaking. It’s him who’s seeking an audience now—the man who’s planned and plotted his way around his whole life. The same man I took on years ago, and it’s the very same man I glare at now as he gazes down at me, his mind made up.
“I’m done listening, as long as that packed bag exists. Fuck you, Tobias.”