Ritual Sins(105)

By: Anne Stuart

“I doubt it. Let’s get out of here. I don’t know where the hell we’re going, but the sooner we split the better. Somewhere out of the country, as fast as we can get there.”

“What will we do when we get there?”

His faint grin was a ghost of his bad-boy smile. “Live off my ill-gotten gains. I tend to be very resourceful—we’ll figure out a way to spend our time.”

“So I should give up everything and follow you?”

“Yes,” he said. “Come away with me, Rachel. Lose everything, give it all away. No defenses, no safety, no margin for error. Just you and me.”

She looked at him. “Just us?”

“We need a good place to grow fat and raise a family. You need a daughter, Rachel. A daughter to love. I want you pregnant.”

“Barefoot and pregnant,” she murmured.

“Again and again. Will you come with me? Will you give up everything?”

She looked up at him. “I know a little town on the coast of Spain,” she said.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and then smiled brilliantly, the haunted look beginning to fade. “I’ve always wanted to live in Spain,” he said.

And by the time the nine police cars arrived at the Foundation of Being at Santa Dolores, they were long gone.