Over and over, until the glass shattered and the pieces crunched.

“I asked you a question.” He moved closer, using his gun to tip my chin. “Did you miss me?”

I could’ve lied. I should’ve lied. But I didn’t. Instead, I remained silent.

“That’s okay. I know you did.” He dropped a hand to rub my stomach, and I had to lock my knees to keep from recoiling. “You think of me every time you look down. You—”

His words cut off abruptly. A moment later, someone pounded on the door. My startled cry was muffled by Eddie’s hand as he quickly covered my mouth. I was tempted to bite him, scream, or stomp. But then I felt it.

The barrel of his gun pressed against my belly.

“Mac!” Ward called, pounding again. “Answer the damn door.”

He didn’t sound playfully indulgent. Or resigned. Or even desperate.

He sounded pissed.

I didn’t understand why. I thought we’d left things okay.

My head swam, and I put all my energy into not passing out. If Ward heard even a peep, he’d break the door down.

And Eddie would hurt him. I knew that for a fact.

I couldn’t let it happen.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I willed him to leave. He couldn’t come in. He couldn’t get hurt because of me.

It took too long, but after a few hours—or minutes that dragged like hours—he finally left.

Eddie kept his gun pointed at me as he backed toward the window. Shifting the fabric aside, he scanned the outside. “I was right. This was the right play.”

“What?” I asked.

He didn’t answer me. I wasn’t even sure he heard me.

“I’ve got to say, Jane, I thought you were better than this. You jumped straight from my bed to some criminal biker scumbag’s bed.” He glared. “Or his kitchen table. How stupid can you be?”

I didn’t say anything, choking down the vomit at the knowledge he’d watched us.

“You don’t feel like talking?” He tilted his head to the side. “You can listen instead.”

Pulling the small recorder he used on cases from his pocket, he pressed play.

I listened in horror as he served Ward a restraining order I hadn’t taken out.

As he told him my real name.

As he told him it wasn’t my aunt’s home.

As he called me names that Ward didn’t argue with.

As he insinuated I’d ratted out Court of Mayhem. The club that meant everything to Ward. The club that was his family.

Family he’d die—or kill—to protect.

That’s why he sounded so pissed.

I listened, shock making me stagger backward when Eddie implied I’d told the police about Ward putting that man in a coma.