Not My Heart to Break (Merciless World Book 3)

by W. Winters

It all snaps into place when he looks at me like that. The same way he used to look at me back then. Like he was put on this earth to save me. The desperation swirls in his eyes and it breaks me down to the only piece of me I truly know.

  The piece that’s desperate to save my broken hero. So damaged by a life he chose not to run from.

  “You first,” I whisper, shaking my head. “And you see someone,” I tell him, already deciding it won’t be me. It can’t be.

  It’s pitch black outside, and a gust of harsh wind throws the curtains to the side as the policeman roars, “We’re coming in!”

  “Go, quick,” I say as I usher him to the window. My hand brushes against his side, against the blood. Seth doesn’t react, but his jaw’s clenched tight. “Let me help you,” I beg him as he climbs out of the window and onto the metal fire escape stairs that lead down the side of the old brick building.

  He’s quick to climb out into the dark night.

  The police are coming and I’ll be damned if I let Seth take the fall. He still has both hands on the windowsill. The gun sitting on the sill cements my decision.

  “Come on, Babygirl.” His tone is gentle as he waits for me to climb out too and to run. “I’ve got you.”

  I can already hear my defense. They broke in here, they threatened me. I did it. I killed them but it was in self-defense. He can get help, he can take care of himself. They can’t blame him for this.

  If he did it, if he’s the one to go down for their murders… There’s intent, drug wars, previous offenses.

  I love him, but I hate him.

  He hurts me, but he saves me.

  Maybe I’m confused, maybe it’s the endorphins rushing through me, the fear, the unknown. I don’t know what it is, but I rip the gun from the sill, whispering for him to go to the hospital and slam the window closed the second his hand raises in confusion and defense. The look of betrayal doesn’t register in his eyes until I lock the window.

  Bang! Bang! Two kicks sound at the door behind me and I suck in a harsh breath.

  My fingers are clenched around the edge of the curtains, ripping them shut and hiding him from the police as the door slams open.

  It’s chaotic and my head spins with uncertainty.

  “Laura Roth, put the gun down slowly.”

  It’s hard to breathe, let alone register what I’ve done. My knees give in and I slowly drop to the ground. There was one rap on the window, one harsh pounding of a fist and I know it’s Seth’s. But only one and then he’s gone.

  Run, Seth. Please, run for me. Get help. I can’t stop picturing the hole in his side. He’ll get help faster this way. He’ll be okay. I have to believe that he’ll be okay.

  He’ll understand. When it’s all over and I’m free. He’ll understand.

  My body’s hot and still trembling as I drop to the floor, following the instructions of Officer Walsh. I recognize his voice. Walsh. Walsh is the one behind me and there are other cops as well, walking around and checking bodies. They call out that they’re dead.

  “All of them?” Walsh asks and someone answers yes.

  I don’t even know how many police officers are with him as he grabs one wrist and then the other. I stare blankly ahead at the curtain. At the spot where I last saw Seth’s face.

  “I know you didn’t do this,” Walsh whispers as another cop behind me calls out that he’s gone too.

  The police sirens ring out loud behind the windows. I wish it were an ambulance.

  “It was self-defense.” I clear my throat and tell Walsh as he pulls me up and onto my feet. He huffs out like he doesn’t believe me.

  “One of them was undercover, Laura. Your excuse isn’t going to work.”

  Undercover… a cop. A chill travels along my skin.

  No. Fuck. No.

  My heart slams, skittering to a halt and refusing to go on. I can’t breathe. “You’re lying.” My voice raises as I start to say, “You just want me to—” before I cut myself off. He’s lying. The cold metal of the cuffs digs into my skin as he turns me around. Walsh’s light blue eyes stare into mine with pity.

  “I’m taking you in even though I know you didn’t do this. You’re going to tell me everything though. You have to. Someone has to go down for this.”

  He’s wrong. Walsh has to be wrong.

  I didn’t just confess to killing an undercover cop.

  Seth

  There’s at least three of them. A gun to my temple. A hand keeping the gag in my mouth. The cloth is slipping back farther down my throat, strangling me as I breathe harshly through my nose. With only a single streetlight a block away, I can’t see shit. I heard the cops practically knock down Laura’s door and bucked back, screaming, fighting, but it was useless. I’d already been grabbed.

  The rage is brutal, just like the heat that boils inside of me.

  They don’t say anything. Not a fucking word as I scream out. The heavy arm holding my arms down around my front grabbed me the second my feet hit the steel grid outside Laura’s window.

  Laura. The thought of her tightens my throat, a raw scratching feeling at the back of it. Trying to breathe, the gag slips back more.

  “She’s all right.” I hear a voice behind me that makes me pause. Not the man holding me, not the man in front of me with the gun to my head.

  It’s taken a while, but my eyes adjust slowly. Too slowly. My vision spins for a moment, the dizziness caused from the lack of air.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  My fists unclench and I do my best to be smart. To figure out who they are. Dark eyes and white skin peek out from the black mask of the guy to my left. The one with the .22 caliber. He’s the only one I can see.

  I can’t speak behind the gag, but I desperately want to. All I can do is wait. To see what they’ve come for. My heart races and my body’s nearly numb waiting, each muscle coiled and ready to strike.

  I can hardly feel the pain of the bullet wound, but the blood is seeping into my clothes. It’s wet too fast. Too much blood. I’m bleeding out.

  Footsteps come closer behind me. Calmly. Three to four men at least. Masked and prepared to be here. It could be Fletcher’s old crew but the chill in my spine, the lifelessness of the eyes I can see…

  Marcus.

  It was never Fletcher. It was always him.

  Goosebumps dance down my flesh as bile rises up. “Laura’s fine. I can’t say the same for you.” The eerily calm voice lacks menace. Lacks any emotion at all.

  “We have orders,” the man holding me finally speaks and I don’t recognize his voice. But it’s followed, too quickly, by another sound I recognize. One I’ve heard countless times.

  Click.

  Tempted to Kiss

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to everyone who feels as if they’re at their worst.

  It’s okay. There’s always a way out. Tomorrow may not be better, but better is coming.

  I promise you, you won’t be down for long.

  Prologue

  Seth

  Eight years ago

  With every day that passes by, I hate myself more and more. Only when she’s not around, though. When she closes the door and the crisp lonely air reminds me what a prick I am, that’s when the resentment creeps in. I have that sound memorized now. The sound of her closing the front door of her house is unmistakable. It’s not like other doors. It’s heavier, I think, and it has to be older because of the ragged groan it gives. Then there’s a pause and a click, followed by the shuffle of the metal chain brushing against the door as she locks it at the top. It’s so high up, she has to get on her tiptoes.

  Then there’s nothing but silence and a hollowness in my chest that reminds me why she’s on the other side of it while I’m out here in the cold, waiting for the dark to set in.

  The only saving grace I have is that when the light of daybreak peeks over the city’s skyline hours later, I know she’s waking up with every intention of letting me back in, giving me the only chanc
e I have to make my sins right.

  She should hate me for what I’ve done. She should loathe my existence.

  Instead she unknowingly takes my hand and offers me the only peace I have in this life. If she knew the truth though… none of this would exist. These moments with her would only ever be a dream. Then I’d wake in the dawn, hating myself a little less than I hate myself now.

  There are two sides to my life: The first is the side that protects Laura and holds on to the threads of her trust. Power, greed, and killing comprise the other.

  That’s what drives me back to her every morning. I like to pretend I can keep the dark side of myself at bay, if only for her.

  The look in Laura’s eyes right now as I stand in her kitchen, waiting for her to tell me I should go—I’ve seen it a million times before. The carefully restrained lust echoes in my own gaze. I’m certain she sees it. Just as I see it from her. I know what keeps me from turning my fantasies into reality. I don’t know what keeps her from acting on our mutual desire. Maybe she senses what I’m hiding. Maybe there’s a deep-seated instinct that warns her away from me.

  If only it were that easy to avoid the bad things in life. Simply sense them, these situations, and turn them away. How wonderful this world would be if it were so easy.

  “Thank you, Seth,” she says and her soft voice is gentle and sweet. There’s a hint of shyness that stays with her when she lets me in. Her skin flushes a little brighter, although this time of year, it can be blamed on the wind from outside. We’re in her home though, and her cheeks are a touch rosier than they were before we came in here. I have no right to let her innocence stir the flames of desire inside of me.

  The microwave beeps, alerting Laura that her hot chocolate is done. “You sure you don’t want one?” she offers over her shoulder. She’s looking more at me than she is at the hot mug in her hand, as if she’s asking me something else entirely. She quickly sets it down when I shake my head and leaves it there, running her hands down her thighs and biting just slightly into her bottom lip.

  Leaning against the doorframe to her grandmother’s kitchen, I note that no one’s home. No one else is here to make sure she’s all right. Her grandmother works herself to death and her father…

  “Do you want to…” her voice trails off and a warm blush creeps up to her high cheekbones. Nearly up to her hairline. Her nervous laugh brings an infectious smile to her tempting lips. They’re the color of sweet, perfectly ripe berries. Maybe whatever berry her lips were made from were truly the forbidden fruit that condemned mankind to hell.

  “Do I want to… what?” I question teasingly, crossing my arms and taking her in. It’s taken a long damn time for her to warm up to me. It took months for her to ask me to come inside. It’s been a few more months now and every day is easier, lighter. Until she’s gone and then I remember.

  Laura picks at the hem of her large, cream-colored sweater. Her leggings make her look so relaxed and at ease. It’s been forever since I’ve seen her like this. No more red-rimmed eyes, no more tearstained cheeks. Almost a year, and she’s seemingly whole.

  She closes the distance easily enough; her strides don’t give anything away. I’m only aware of how quick she is to get to me from the rapid thuds made by the pads of her feet. Shock and surprise consume me as her dainty hand grips my forearm, her nails barely touching my skin, teasing me. Thump, my heart pauses. She rises up on her tiptoes, barefoot and all, and presses those sweet lips to mine. Thump, my heart races with need and hunger.

  At first it’s soft and gentle, a peck on the lips and nothing more. Maybe someone else would take it as a thank you, as testing a boundary, or flirtatious innocence. It’s anything but that to me. The barest of affections from her elicit a storm of want and need that floods my blood with desire. Even the feel of her breath so close is like heaven, so close I can almost taste it. Adrenaline races through me and I deepen the kiss. My arms uncross and wrap around her small waist before I know what’s happening.

  The kiss is searing, branding my soul as she moans into my mouth. When she parts her lips, I take it as an invitation, giving in to the perverse thoughts I’ve had for as long as I’ve known her. The air turns hotter around us, everything blurring and turning into nothingness. That’s all life’s ever been for me, nothing without her.

  I make a vow to myself as she parts from the kiss, her eyes half lidded, her fingernails digging into my skin to ensure I keep my grip on her. She breathes heavily as I promise myself, she’ll never know.

  I’ll kill the man who tells her what I’ve done. I’ll kill him for taking her away from me.

  Laura

  I wish I didn’t know. I wish Seth had never told me. I wish I’d never pressed him.

  Once you tell someone a secret like the one he told me last night, you can’t take it back. More than anything in the entire world, I want to go back to that moment and beg him not to tell me. That little secret changed everything.

  My cheek rests heavily on my fist, my elbow propped up on the metal table. It’s cold and I can’t stop rocking my right leg, which is crossed over the left. My muscles are tight and sore from sitting like this for so long, but I can’t get comfortable either way.

  All I can think about is how I wish I hadn’t pushed him. I wish he’d had the sense not to tell me.

  All the wishes in the world don’t mean shit as I bite away at my thumbnail in this far too cold empty room. Does that make me weak, or less of a woman? To wish I simply didn’t know something so awful and life altering? If it does, so be it. I just want to go back. I don’t want to know any of it.

  The air conditioner keeps coming on and each time it does my heart leaps. It’s accompanied with a loud click, that fills the quiet space. It scares the shit out of me every time it clicks on. I haven’t slept in God knows how long now. I know that’s not helping, but how could I possibly sleep in this room? It’s not designed for comfort. I haven’t taken my medicine either and the beating organ in my chest runs wild. It doesn’t want to be in this interrogation room any more than I do.

  My thumbnail is jagged and rough from biting it down to the nub as goosebumps spread across my flesh and my foot nervously taps against one of the metal legs of the table.

  Four chairs, a table and a long-ass mirror at eye level on the wall to my left are all that are in this room. I’m no fool and I’m fully aware it’s a one-way mirror and they’re watching me.

  Officer Cody Walsh is watching me.

  Maybe he’s waiting for me to break. The question is: how long will he wait?

  The door opens suddenly, ripping me from the trance I’d been in as I stared at my own reflection. From the scrubs I put on yesterday morning, to my red-rimmed eyes, blotchy from smeared mascara, I look like hell. Or rather like I’ve been to hell and come back to tell the tale.

  Again my heart reacts at a sudden unfamiliar noise as the door opens, thumping and loudly protesting this man’s existence.

  Cody Walsh will always look handsome, I’m sure of it. There’s a charming air that surrounds him as he lets the door close behind him, a coffee in each of his hands. He’s not dressed in his uniform, clad only in faded jeans and a crisp white collared shirt. Classically handsome fits him well. Wholesome, even. With neatly trimmed hair and never more than a five o’clock shadow on his face to pair with his gorgeous blue eyes and pearl-white smile, he’s a good-looking man to say the least. A little older, but good-looking nonetheless.

  “You didn’t sleep,” he comments with compassion in his tone. I wish he weren’t compassionate. That’s how he gets me and I’m so aware, yet so in need.

  I fall for it. My dreary night lends itself to a need for sympathy. The ball of emotions clouds my vision and I let my hand fall over my eyes, scrubbing them and reminding myself that I can’t say anything to anyone, no matter how long I’m meant to wait in this room. Anything I can think to say to Walsh in greeting jumbles itself at the back of my throat. I suppose some piece of me would rather choke o
n the words than give them to the man who arrested me.

  “The guilty ones sleep.” Walsh’s voice remains casual, friendly even. It’s unavoidable to look him in the eyes as he walks over to me, confidently and nonthreatening in the least. “You didn’t and I knew you wouldn’t,” he says as he places a cup of coffee beside me. It smells like cinnamon and he must notice how I gaze down at the cup longingly the moment it hits the hard, unforgiving table. Which is the only thing that’s been my company for hours. I shift in my spot and suddenly realize how sore my elbow is from resting in the same position for so long.

  The white paper cup is innocuous, the black lid standard, but it looks and smells like heaven to me.

  Wrapping both of my hands around it, the warmth is everything. “Do you intentionally keep the room cold?” I ask as my shoulders shake with another click of the air conditioner turning back on. I knew it was coming, but still wasn’t ready for the sudden sound. It’s less of a shock with Cody distracting me though.

  Officer Walsh looks up at the vent only a foot from me before turning, leaving the room without a word and then coming right back. The constant breeze is no longer present and he gives me a weak smile although his eyes don’t reach my own. “My apologies.”

  The concrete floor protests in a loud screech as he pulls out the metal chair across from me. I take a sip of the coffee, unable to refrain any longer. The least I can do for myself is consume some sort of energy. I haven’t eaten in a long damn time since I didn’t take my lunch break on my last shift. I don’t know if the coffee is decaf or not, but the warmth alone is welcome. My eyes close and the lack of cool air against them grants me a small sense of peace. It’s short-lived, but it was there for a moment.

  Walsh gestures to the coffee and says, “Cinnamon crumb cake or something like that. It was the special of the day. I don’t know how you take it.”