Page 154 of Jensen

I am beautiful, powerful.

Voices and footsteps sound downstairs. My heart picks up,and I fling open the medicine cupboards. Adderall, painkillers. I frantically sort through the bottles, trying to read through blurred vision. There’s a pharmacy in here, but not what I need.

My eyes fall on a little bottle on the counter. Allergy medicine. Leland takes it when he can’t sleep sometimes.

Will that work?

I don’t think I have a choice. Snatching it up, Ishakea handful of pills out and replace the bottle. Then, I leave the bathroom and run in my stockinged feet to the bar on the far end of the table.

This is a wild card, my biggest gamble, somehow bigger than the one I took when I flew out to Montana to find Jensen.

But it’s all I have.

The wall behind the bar is covered in bottles from floor to ceiling. Leland loves good alcohol, and like a true Kentucky man, he’s got a taste for expensive bourbon. If I pour him a glass, he won’t waste it. I scan the shelves, my eyes fallingon a bottle on the very top shelf.

It’s never been open, not in all theyears we were married.

I scramble onto the bar, teetering as I balance on the shelf. My fingertips graze the glass. Fuck, I’m not quite tall enough. Taking a breath, I stretch, bracing my weight between the wall and counter. My fingers close around the glass bottle neck,and I push back, falling sharply on my ass on the counter.

That was so fucking close.

Footsteps sound on the stairs. I slide down and duck behind the bar, grabbing two short glasses. Fuck, my hands are shaking. I take a short breath, open and close my eyes, anddump the pills in my fist in. Pink flood the bottom of the glass. I rip the top of the bourbon off and dump it in. It swirls,and the pills start dissolving.

I need ice.

Leland drinks his bourbon neat, but for tonight, I’m going to plead ignorance. I need to dull the taste of the drugs. So,I take a handful from the mini cooler and dump the cubes into his glass.

Someone is walking down the hall.

Blindly, I pull down the closest bottle of red wine and pour myself some. Then, grabbing both glasses, I sink down on the edge of the bed.

Time to put on the performance of my life.

The knob turns. The room sways. I’m not good in situations like this, but tonight,that can’t matter. Tonight, we’re going head to head,and then I am running as far and as fast from him as I can. Leland’s voice sounds. He’s talking to one of the security guards.

The door opens.

I lift my eyes. He steps in and shuts it.

All at once, I’m eighteen years old, back in that dark room with him. My heart poundsin my chest like a hurt animal, but alongside the wound he left in me burns avengefulangerthat wasn’t there before this moment.

He hurt me.

And I want him to know how that feels.

He turns to me, his expression unreadable. They patched up his face, put two stitches over his brow. Otherwise, he looks far better than I’d hoped. He must have showered downstairs,because he’s in sweats and a t-shirt,and his hair is wet.

“Where’s our son?” I whisper.

He clears his throat.“Sleeping. Kayleigh’s in the guestroom,” he sayscoldly. “For some reason,shestill had him up.”

“Maybe he couldn’t sleep.”

He shrugs, taking a step in. I twitch back but keep myself steady. He comes to stand before the hearth. I keep still as he stares down at the electric fireplace, waiting, wondering what he’ll do next. He hits the button and turns the flames on. He keeps looking at it, brow furrowed like he’s thinking hard.

What is he doing?

Finally, he sighs then turns around. His eyes are darker than night, brows lowered.