Page 63 of Reckless Love

The set of his jaw as I turn back to my husband and slide into the back of the car beside my son tells me that this conversation isn’t over.

Landon snuggles into my side, and I double-check the buckle on his seat belt. Raul doesn’t acknowledge me as the car glides away from Gage, Ember, and their kids standing in the driveway. Their concerned expressions only make the knot in my stomach tighten.

“Don’t take this route,” Raul says to our driver, his impatience coating the car in even more discomfort. “This is the long way. It’s almost one in the morning. Take the direct route.”

“Director Foster—”

“As in Stephen Foster?” Raul is practically vibrating with renewed anger. “He has nothing to do with our security this time. You take us the route I asked for.”

The driver hits the message button on the screen, and Raul sits forward. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, sir,” the driver says, “but I need to let Datu know what’s happening.”

“He’s following,” Raul says. “Let him follow. Just do as I asked.”

The driver signals to turn down the road that’ll lead us back to the way we’d typically take home. At the next junction, we connect with the road we would have taken from my parents’ house, which is by far our fastest route.

Landon has drifted back to sleep, but at Raul’s harsh tone, he burrows closer, as though even his subconscious knows to avoid his father when he’s like this.

“I will not allow you to make a mockery out of me,” Raul says, staring out the window. “If you need more physical attention, I can provide that.” He turns to look at me, his eyes hard. “Perhaps even insist on it. Unleash those animal instincts in the bedroom instead of all over the country.”

“You’re drunk,” I say, hoping he’ll forget this in the morning, that my mother erased the footage, that I won’t actually end up cornered instead of unleashed. Because I would do almost anything to stop Stephen from being in trouble for defending me. Anything to stop Raul from taking Landon, from shutting down Reckless. Anything.

The road around us is deserted, and a chill streaks down my spine. I sit up straighter, and headlights flood the interior as we pass through an intersection. Instinctively, I clutch Landon tighter.

“Oh, god, is that truck going to…”

The car we’re in jolts at the same time a loud bang reverberates in my head. Our car rotates, spinning, spinning so fast my head hurts and my stomach heaves. I cling to Landon, trying to keep him tucked beside me. The car hitches suddenly, as though it’s made contact with something else, and then we’re flying, tumbling and tumbling. The crunch of the vehicle at each rotation is the only sound I can hear.

And then everything goes black.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Stephen

Ileave the charity event, speeding home while Vanessa’s text updates pop up on the screen of the car. Abandoning Ava at her parents’ party, knowing how fired up Raul was, isn’t something I’d normally do. Half my brain is still on the terrace, hand around Raul’s throat, wishing he’d give me one more reason. My old instincts aren’t buried nearly as deep as I’d like to believe.

The reality is that Ava isn’t mine to look after—not through my job and not through any connection we once had. Leaving was the right choice, the only choice.

Given how much of my parents’ care I missed because of my career and then my injuries, I can’t leave my sister hanging when she sends an SOS for help. Being there for her and for my parents is my priority.

When I pull in the driveway, all the lights are on in my parents’ unit, and as I draw open the door, I hear my mother’s moans of pain. If that’s any indication, my sister definitely should have called an ambulance despite the potential cost. Instead of waiting to assess, I type in the emergency number as I head into the interior of the apartment, but I don’t hit call yet. Maybe between us, we can get her to my car safely.

In the living room, my mother is laid out on the floor, my father is in his chair, and Vanessa is crouched beside our mother, peering over her.

“Fill me in,” I say.

“I heard a crack,” my mother says. “I broke something.”

“A hip? A leg? I can’t tell.” Vanessa runs her hands along our mother.

“How did she look when she fell? What area seemed to give out?” I ask.

“You really can’t tell where the pain is coming from?” Vanessa asks our mom, ignoring my question.

“Everywhere,” my mother says. “It’s one of those days.”

“An ambulance it is. We can’t chance moving you.” I get down on the floor beside Vanessa and press the phone to my ear as it rings. “I thought we had a nurse booked for tonight.” I scan my mom for any obvious protruding bones. While I could carry her, it’s impossible to know if I’d be doing more harm than good.