Flirting wasn’t working.
It was a stupid idea. Flirt with all the women but her. Show her I was attracted to them.
Not her.
Never Delilah.
She made my blood f*****g boil. Just sitting next to her was a slow torture, but an agony I endured for some unknown reason.
Fuck. I should have told Jack “No.” Been more insistent about it.
I needed a f*****g drink. A strong one.
Headlights in my rearview mirror caught my attention. Six miles they’d stayed close, and it could have been a coincidence, but maybe not. Four years of looking over my shoulder had honed my awareness of my surroundings. I’d become a paranoid motherfucker, but with good cause.
Killing Grace and leaving me at death’s door wasn’t enough for Vincent Marconi—it was only the beginning. I was right where he wanted me; locked
