Page 180 of Pieces of Her (Andrea Oliver 1)

He pressed his thumb against her carotid artery, the same as he’d done when he’d strangled her into unconsciousness.

“Or do I have to force you to make another choice? Not Andrew this time, but your precious Andrea. It’d be awful if you lost her after all of this. I don’t want to hurt our child, but I will.”

Terroristic threats. Intimidation. Extortion.

Laura kept playing, because Nick never knew when to quit.

“I told you I would scorch the earth to get you back, my darling. I don’t care how many people I have to send, or how many people die. You still belong to me, Jinx Queller. Every part of you belongs to me.”

He waited for her reaction, his thumb pressed to her pulse for the tell-tale sign of panic.

She wasn’t panicked. She was elated. She was playing music again. Her daughter was listening. Laura could’ve stopped right now—Nick had given them enough—but she was not going to deny herself the pleasure of finishing what she had started. Up to the A, then back to the E minor, down to the D, then she was hitting the triplets on the C again and she was at the Hollywood Bowl. She was at Carnegie. Tivoli. Musikverein. Hansa Tonstudio. She was holding her baby. She was loving Gordon. She was pushing him away. She was struggling with cancer. She was sending Andrea away. She was watching her daughter finally grow into a vibrant, interesting young woman. And she was holding onto her, because Laura was never going to give up another thing that she loved for this loathsome man.

One for tomorrow... one just for today...

She had hummed the words to the song in her jail cell. Tapped it out on her imaginary bed frame keyboard the same way she had tapped it on the bar top for Laura Juneau. Even now with Nick still playing the devil on her shoulder, Laura allowed herself the joy of playing the song right up until the final, sharp staccato brought her to the abrupt end—

I’m goin’ away.

Laura’s hands floated to her lap. She kept her head bowed.

There was the usual dramatic pause and then—

Clapping. Cheering. Feet stamping the floor.

“Fantastic,” Nick shouted. He was basking in the glow of the applause, as if it was meant entirely for him. “That’s my girl, ladies and gentlemen.”

Laura stood up, shrugging off his hand. She walked past Nick, past the picnic tables and the children’s play area, but then she realized that this was truly the last time she would ever see the man who called himself Nicholas Harp again.

She turned around. She looked him in the eye. She told him, “I’m not damaged anymore.”

There was a stray clap before the room went silent.

“Darling?” Nick’s smile held a sharp warning.

“I’m not hurt,” she told him. “I healed myself. My daughter healed me—my daughter. My husband healed me. My life without you healed me.”

He chuckled. “All right, Jinxie. Run along now. You’ve got a decision to make.”

“No.” She said the word with the same determination she had expressed three decades ago in the farmhouse. “I will never choose you. No matter what the other option is. I don’t choose you.”

His teeth were clenched. She could feel his rage winding up.

She told him, “I’m magnificent.”

He chuckled again, but he was not really laughing.

“I am magnificent,” she repeated, her fists clenched at her side. “I’m magnificent because I am so uniquely me.” Laura pressed her hand to her heart. “I am talented. And I am beautiful. I am amazing. And I found my way, Nick. And it was the right way because it was the path that I set out for myself.”

Nick crossed his arms. She was embarrassing him. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“We’ll talk about it in hell.”

Laura turned around. She walked around the corner, stood at the locked gate. Her hands shook as she waited for the guard to find his key. The vibrations moved up her arms, into her torso, inside her chest. Her teeth had started to chatter by the time the gate swung open.

Laura walked through. Then there was another door. Another key.

Her teeth were clicking like marbles. She looked through the window. Mike was standing between the two locked doors. He looked worried.