Even the most beautiful love stories can fall apart when a third person steps between two hearts.
It was rarely truly cold in Texas.
Even during winter, the air never carried the kind of bone-deep chill that froze a person to the core.
Yet the narrow alleyway seemed unusually cold.
A tall man stood in the shadows, a cigar resting between his lips as wisps of smoke curled into the night air.
His dark eyes remained fixed on a particular woman in the distance, watching her every move.
His black hair was neatly combed back, accentuating the sharp angles of his handsome, sun-tanned face.
There was no emotion in his expression—only a chilling calm that seemed capable of lowering the temperature around him.
The woman was walking down the street, her hair dancing in the wind like a golden halo, her fingers intertwined with another man.
“Boss Walsh, should we make our move now?” asked Sheikh, his right-hand man.
Jackson Walsh took a slow drag from his cigar before exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
His gaze never left the woman.
“Wait for my orders.”
His voice was cold enough to make snow fall in Texas.
“Alright boss,” Mikhail his other guard replied.
Jackson said nothing further.
He simply continued watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as the ember at the tip of his cigar glowed in the darkness.
He watched Mariam Doyle disappear into a restaurant, his jaw tightening with suppressed rage.
Jackson’s fingers clenched into fists as he watched Mariam laugh, her head tilting back in that way he used to adore.
A slow, bitter smile curled his lips.
Mariam could run away from him.
She thought she could leave him in the past.
She believed he wouldn’t come after her.
But she was wrong — she was his.
He would make sure to steal her peace.
***
Mariam inhaled the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, but the comforting scent did little to steady her nerves.
The rustic ambiance of the Italian café, with its soft candlelight, vintage brick walls and the soothing violin playing in the background should have been relaxing.
But it actually felt suffocating.
Her fingers fidgeted with the gold band on her ring finger, twisting it back and forth in a restless rhythm.
“Ronan,” she said, “do you really think… do you think everything is going to be okay?”
Ronan Turner set his espresso cup down with a faint clink.
“Mariam, you’re seriously worried about Jackson Walsh?”
When Mariam’s worried expression didn’t soften, he leaned forward, resting his hand gently over hers.
“We’re leaving America soon — starting fresh in England. He won’t even know where to find us.”
But Mariam Doyle wasn’t convinced.
Ronan Turner didn’t know Jackson Walsh the way she did.
Jackson Walsh was a bloodthirsty man there was no guarantee he wouldn’t…
BOOM!
Suddenly, chaos erupted around them.
A deafening noise was heard.
“Did I hear gunshots?”
“What was that?”
“Is this a terrorist attack?”
Screams pierced the air as people scattered in every direction, overturning chairs and tables in a desperate rush to escape.
Mariam’s heart pounded wildly in her chest.
Those were indeed gunshots.
Turning her head back, she saw several men clad in black storming into the café, their faces cold and menacing.
“Marie, we need to leave. Now,” Ronan urged, grabbing her hand.
But Mariam was so shellshocked that she couldn’t even move.
“Marie, we need to hurry!” Ronan didn’t wait for Mariam to respond as he yanked her toward the exit.
“Oh look at the poor old lovers!” Before they could take another step, a tall, tanned man with dark, gleaming eyes blocked their way.
His presence was so dangerous that Ronan instinctively took a step back.
Mariam couldn’t breathe.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
She knew that face, those predatory eyes that seemed to see right through her.
“Jackson…”
“Hello baby…were you trying to run away?” Jackson looked up and down Mariam.
A drop of water trickled down her neck into the heart shaped neckline of her dress.
She was panicking internally so hard.
She feared having to face Jackson the most but here he was…standing in front of her.
“Get out of the way, you psycho!” Ronan barked.
He was ready to jump at Jackson to protect Mariam.
Jackson flicked his fingers.
Instantly, two armed men seized Ronan, locking his arms in a vice-like grip.
“Let him go!” Mariam cried, her voice breaking.
Jackson tilted his head, his expression mockingly amused.
“You’re coming with me, or Sheikh will put a bullet in your lover’s head.”
Mariam tried to hold Jackson’s gaze even though she was trembling.
“You wouldn’t dare to…”
“You think I wouldn’t dare?” Jackson let out a laugh.
“You are supposed to marry me. Your father sold you to me. You think running off with another man is going to save you?”
“No, you are not taking her anywhere!” Ronan protested from behind as he struggled against his captors, his face twisted in rage.
“Shut up,” Sheikh snarled, pressing the cold barrel of his gun against the side of Ronan’s head.
“I am going to shoot…I’m counting one, two and thr-”
“No! Stop!” Mariam shrieked.
Tear filled her doe eyes as she realized that Jackson was was serious.
He wouldn’t hesitate.
But still she didn’t let those tears fall down her cheek.
She wouldn’t give him that thrill.
“I’ll go with you,” she whispered.
“Just… let Ronan go.”