Page 97 of Ridin' Free
“Let me go!” I yelled.
“No. Not until you believe it,” he repeated.
“God—I fuckinghateyou!”
His hand around my neck tightened and he pressed in even closer, touching his forehead to mine before he muttered, “Well, I love you, and that’s pretty damn close. I guess that makes us even.”
I jerked in his hold, his declaration sending a jolt straight through me, shattering my numbness and reigniting my anger.
“Don’t say that to me,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
I shoved at his chest again, and still he didn’t move. I all but growled as I spat, “I don’t want your pity, asshole.”
“It’s not pity, and you know it. I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”
“Yeah, well, it’s like I said—you don’t know me. Whatever we had, it was just pretend. It was me pretending I could be more, but it was a lie. It’s all a big fat lie. You don’t love me because theversion of me I gave you isn’t real; and I can’t love you because I don’t even know what that is.
“This? You and me? It’s over. Please go. Please.”
He lifted his head away from mine so he could look me in the eye as he muttered, “You don’t mean that.”
I freed a hysterical laugh. “Seriously? Stop tellin’ me I don’t know what’s in my own fuckin’ head. Just leave, Ben. Leave! Please.”
Benson stood there, silently staring down at me for a long moment. I didn’t look away, feeling both desperate for him to let me go and devastated that he probably would.
When he made up his mind, I saw it. His eyes grew vacant somehow as his face went blank. He freed my neck, and it was like he’d tossed my heart at my feet, where it shriveled up and died.
He took one step back, putting just enough space between us to make it difficult for me to breathe. The panic I felt the night before was back—only bigger and bolder than before.
“You’ve locked yourself in a cage, Ali,” he began, his voice as deep and resonate as ever. “It’s a prison in which you do not belong. But you’ve got wings. You can fly, baby—and the door is open. It’s always fuckin’ open.”
When he was finished speaking, he turned his back to me, headed for the exit. I watched him leave without a second glance. No sooner had the door shut softly behind him than I collapsed onto the floor and wept.
Round table. Two hours.
It was allhisVP said.
Given the conversation he walked in on that afternoon, it was all he needed to say. Now, it was almost eight, and the only ones missing from the room were Twister, Maverick, and Mustang.
His Sergeant at Arms was the next to walk through the door. He didn’t need to open his mouth for Bull to recognize he was irritated—but his first words were enough to solidify it.
“I’m down the best set of hands I’ve got. It’s Friday night, and the bar is packed, so this better be quick.”
“Soon as the brother who called us in here shows up, we’ll get right to it,” replied Bull.
“Any idea what this is about?” asked Shep from where he sat, two seats removed from the president.
“Still tryin’ to figure it out myself,” drawled Wrangler who stood behind the chair next to Shep, his arms folded casually across his chest. “Seems I missed a few things while under the hood this afternoon. Mav stepped away for a quick break and never came back. Left on his hog with Twister headed I don’t know where.”
“Went after his woman,” said Bull.
Mustang quirked an eyebrow. “He find her?”
“Don’t know yet.” Bull leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table and looked around the room as he continued, “What I can tell you is this involves Scorpion.”
“How?” asked Slick.
