CRAVING THE WRONG MAN

CHOOSE SOMEWHERE ELSE

**MIA**

My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it.

I lift my chin. "I don't want to die."

His smile disappears. For some reason, that seems to surprise him.

I don't know where the courage comes from. Maybe it isn't courage at all. Maybe something inside me simply refuses to let the last thing I see be Saint's back disappearing through that door.

I can't die here. Not now.

Not when there is still a tiny life inside me that doesn't even know this world yet.

My hand moves instinctively toward my stomach before I stop myself.

The secret stays where it belongs. With me.

The man watches me carefully, his gun still pointed at my chest.

"That wasn't my question?"

"No. But it's my answer" My voice shakes, but I don't look away from him.

His eyes narrow at my words.

Before he can answer, a deafening explosion hits the building.

The walls tremble. Dust rains from the ceiling, and the light above us swings violently from its wire. Somewhere outside the room, men start shouting.

The gunman turns toward the door immediately. Another explosion follows. Then gunfire.

A lot of it.

My entire body jolts as someone screams in the hallway.

"What's happening?" another man shouts.

The gunman curses under his breath and lowers the weapon just enough for me to see an opening.

I don't hesitate. I throw myself sideways.

The chair I am tied to crashes into his legs, and he stumbles. The gun fires, the sound exploding through the small room and leaving my ears ringing.

I hit the floor hard. For a second, I can't breathe.

Then I hear the man swear and feel his hand close around the back of my shirt.

I kick blindly. My heel connects with his knee.

And he falls.

I twist onto my side, dragging my bound hands beneath my legs until my wrists are in front of me. Pain shoots through my shoulders, but I force myself upright.

The door is open. Men are running through the corridor.

Smoke fills the air.

I don't know who is attacking. I don't know if they're Saint's men.

I don't know if they're another enemy.

I only know that everyone is distracted.

And I have spent the last several minutes being reminded exactly what happens when I wait for someone else to save me.

So I ran.

My legs nearly give out beneath me, but I catch myself against the wall and keep moving.

I focus on the hallway.

One door. Another. A staircase.

I move toward the stairs because I can see daylight spilling through an opening at the far end.

Someone grabs my arm just then.

I scream and swing around, but it's one of those men.

"Get back inside!"

I yank away."Let me go!"

He reaches for me again.

A burst of gunfire erupts somewhere nearby, and he instinctively ducks.

I run.

This time, nobody catches me.

I make it down the stairs and stumble into what looks like an old garage. Several vehicles are parked inside, their doors hanging open. Smoke drifts beneath the ceiling, and men are moving between the cars with weapons drawn.

One of them spots me.

"There!"

I freeze.

He raises his gun. Before he can fire, another man crashes into him from the side.

They disappear behind one of the vehicles.

I don't wait to find out who won. I run toward the nearest open door.

Then I hear a voice behind me.

"Stop."

I know that voice. The man from the room.

I turn slowly.

He is standing at the top of the stairs, one hand pressed against his side where blood is spreading through his shirt. His gun is still in his other hand, but he isn't pointing it at me anymore.

He looks at me for a long moment. Then he laughs softly.

"You really are determined."

I don't answer. He starts walking toward me.

And I back away.

"If you're going to shoot me, just do it."

"I was going to."

He looks toward the chaos outside.

"Then your husband's enemies decided to make things interesting."

My heart twists at the word husband. I hate that it still does.

The man reaches the bottom of the stairs.

He could shoot me right now. Instead, he lowers his weapon.

"Go."

I stare at him, completely confused. "What?"

"You heard me." He steps aside. "Go."

I don't move. Something about this feels wrong.

"Didn't you want me dead?"

"I changed my mind."

"Why?"

His eyes move over me, thoughtful now rather than amused.

"Because someone wants your husband to know something."

My stomach tightens."What?"

He smiles.

"That when he had to choose between two women, he chose the wrong one."

I stare at him.

He steps closer, lowering his voice.

"Go home, sweetheart. Go wherever you want. But when Saint finds you, tell him I let you live."

I don't understand."You'd just let me walk away?"

"I want him to live with his choice."

The words settle somewhere deep inside me..And somehow, that doesn't make me feel better.

The gunman looks toward the garage entrance.

"Unless you'd rather stay."

I shake my head. "No please."

"Then run."

This time, I do. For real.

I push through the open garage door and stumble outside.

Cold air hits my face at once. For several seconds, I simply stand there.

I'm free.

The thought feels strange. I should be relieved.

Instead, my chest aches so badly that I have to press a hand against it.

I look down at my other hand.

There is blood on my fingers.

I start walking. Then walking becomes running.

I don't know where I'm going. I don't know how far I've come. I don't know whether anyone is following me.

I only know that I need distance.

Distance from that building.

My feet hurt, my shoulder burns, and every breath feels like it is scraping my lungs, but I keep going until the building disappears behind the trees.

Only then do I stop.

I bend over, hands braced against my knees, trying to breathe.

And that's when I finally break down.

I press my palm over my stomach. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

The words are for the baby.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all of that before you even got here."

A sob escapes me, and I cover my mouth.

I think about the little black box sitting somewhere in that house.

The tiny black socks with white skulls.

I bought them because I thought I was going to give Saint the happiest surprise of his life.

I thought I was going to watch his face change when he realized he was going to be a father.

Instead, he carried another woman out of a room while I stayed behind.

I close my eyes. For a few seconds, I allow myself to mourn the life I thought I was going to have.

Then I straighten up.

I can't stay here.

I need help, but I don't know who I can trust.

Saint's men might find me. Anyone connected to the club could lead Saint straight to me.

And right now, I don't want him to find me.

Not because I don't want to see him. Because I know exactly what will happen if I do.

He'll apologize. He'll tell me he had no choice. He'll tell me he was sorry.

And some broken part of me will want to believe him. I can't let that manipulation win anymore.

I can't let that happen.

I walk until I find an old roadside building with a pay phone mounted outside. My fingers tremble as I lift the receiver.

I know one number by heart. I stare at the keypad.

Saint's number.

I could call him, he would answer. Maybe.

The thought alone makes my throat close. My thumb hovers over the numbers.

Then I pull my hand away.

For three years, Saint has been the person I run toward.

Today, I choose somewhere else.

I dial a number I know from the club, one belonging to a man who has always treated me like more than Saint's wife but I acted like I didn't notice for years.

The phone rings.

Once.

Twice.

Then someone answers. "Hello?"

I close my eyes, my voice breaks when I speak.

"It's Mia."

Silence.

Then, sharply, "Mia? Where the hell are you?"

I look down at my trembling hand resting over my stomach.

"I'm alive."