Page 92 of Undertow

I know it has to do with Scarlett, but a busy bar isn’t the place to explain that landmine. Instead, I do my job and try my best to ignore her cool looks laced with questions I can’t answer.

I’m furious at Scarlett for risking everything over her strange obsession with me. The second I can get to my phone, I’m telling Merrick to rein her in. She’s going to blow everything we’ve worked for, everything I’ve sacrificed, over a jealous crush.

By the time the bar clears, I’m exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Just plain depleted. I have no energy left for the storm that’s about to come.

“Why was Scarlett here, Shaw?” Julia asks as I wipe down the bar.

“No idea. Guess she still has a crush on me.”

“Yeah. It appears so.”

Something about her tone makes me uneasy. I cast a glance at her, but can’t read anything obvious in her flat expression.

“Julia, I’m sorry.” I straighten to face her.

Rag clenched, I search her face with as much sincerity as I can muster.

“She’s pissed because she could see how much I care about you.”

It’s an interesting thing using the truth to tell a lie.

She nods, but again, her response stirs an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

“Are you falling in love with me?” she asks, her eyes softening.

My tension eases as I take a step toward her. “I think I am,” I say quietly. Pressure builds in my chest as the truth comes pouring out. “I know it’s fast and makes no sense, but… I’ve never felt this way about someone. You make me want things I never thought I could have.”

Tears well in her eyes while she studies my face. She reaches up and runs her fingers down my cheek, over my lips.

“You made me want things I never thought I could have as well.”

“Yeah?”

My smile fades when her words register.

Made?

Oh no.

Fuck!

Movement at the door draws my attention.

Panic tears through me when Adrian, Mama H, and more members of the Hartford family pour into the room, murder in their posture.

My gaze shoots to Julia, who steps back and wipes at her eyes.

She shakes her head and retreats further at my silent plea. Her expression is so warped with mixed emotions I can’t read them.

Before I can respond, someone grabs the back of my neck and slams me onto the bar.

Pain explodes from the side of my head as other hands grip my wrists to secure them behind my back.

The restraints bite into my skin in a familiar sensation, and the small part of me that still wants to live ignites a spark of resistance.

But what’s the point? I knew this day was coming from the moment I stepped foot on this island.

“Take him to The Shack,” Mama H says in a cold voice.

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