AllisonI slam down against the window. My shoulder's pinned, painfully digging into broken glass. My face is pressed against something cold and hard—the door, concrete, I can't really tell—and Gregory's still on top of me, still covering my body with his own. He weighs a thousand pounds. I'm dizzy and can't tell which way is up.I hear my name. "Allison. Hey, Allison, look at me." Gregory's dragging me up, shaking me slightly. Everything's ringing and whining, and the light's far too bright."Gregory," I mumble. "I'm okay. I'm okay." But am I okay? I don't know what happened, why the whole car seems like it exploded, or why Gregory sounds angry."Hold on." His arms wrap around me and he's lifting me up, up, across the car—how are we moving up through the car?—until Sean's pulling me from the opposite window.Loud explosions break out all around us. Sean curses, and he drags me over the side of the car, landing in a heap on the parking lot.It takes a beat to understand that the SUV i
GregoryThe pungent scent of burning marijuana fills the air.It's nearly choking. Thick plumes gust into the sky with each breeze. I can barely see the stars, and the full moon's a black circle. I stand well back from the flames with Sean at my elbow. Orange and red flames lick along perfect rows of plants, catching and spreading in the direction of the wind. Nearby, my men run around, throwing more Molotov cocktails into the field, starting more blazes.Soon, the entire farm will burn to ashes.And ten others just like it in northern Oregon will burn as well. Multiple farms hit, all in one coordinated attack on Paul's suppliers. These are Paul's closest business associates, and nobody will be confused about why they were attacked.I tried to avoid this, but it's time."What are you thinking?" Sean asks as I walk away from the scene back to where we parked the cars a mile off the main road."Nobody's going to mistake this little revenge," I say, putting the stench of burning weed beh
AllisonI wake to find Gregory in bed with me. I blink against the bright morning sunlight, trying to decide if my husband is a mirage or not. I shift closer and touch his chest, making his eyelids flutter open. The man's cut from marble, and the still-sleeping look in his eyes only makes him that much more beautiful. I'm struck by this man, by how handsome he is, by how effortlessly he navigates the world. It's like I'm seeing him for the first time."Good morning," I say softly. "You smell like smoke.""Good morning." He rolls onto his back and sighs. "I showered. Twice.""What did you do last night?""Started my revenge." He shifts back to face me. "How are you feeling?""Tired," I say, yawning."The baby? Any symptoms? The doctor said—""I'm fine." I touch his chest again, not thinking about how intimate the gesture is. I can't seem to keep my hands away from him. "Seriously. I feel totally fine. A little bit sore, but better than yesterday."He looks visibly relieved. "I had trou
AllisonAfterward, we shower together. He soaps me up, quietly cleaning every inch of my body. He even gently cleans my wounds, and when we're done, he replaces the bandages."Breakfast," he says, taking me downstairs."I was thinking a light workout first," I complain, but he's not having any of it."You got your workout," he says, the lewd bastard.Orin's already cooking, whistling away, and gives me a wave as Gregory sits me down at the kitchen table, pours me some coffee, gives me the paper, and starts to rub my shoulders."Relax," he says, kneading away the knots.Where the hell did this man come from, and why does he have fingers like a professional musician?"I'm working hard to understand why you're suddenly acting like you want to spoil me," I say, trying to swat his hands away halfheartedly."My pregnant wife was put in danger yesterday.""Are you feeling guilty? I didn't realize you were capable.""I didn't either," he mutters."You shouldn't let it worry you. I made that d
AllisonFor one blissful afternoon, I wasn't thinking about escape.Now I can't get it out of my head.There are a thousand ways out of this house, but none of them would work, and I'm pretty sure Gregory would chain me up in a bedroom if I made more noise.But more than that, I keep thinking about the truck running into our SUV, about the gunshots, the bodies, the blood. I keep seeing the death all around me, and I'm terrified of what will happen if I let Paul get anywhere near me.Gregory throws himself back into work the next day.I mope around the house, feeling sorry for myself. Even Orin gives me space.At least until Keely arrives.She breezes into the house, looking glorious, dirty-blonde hair in thick ringlets, wearing designer everything from ears to toes. "Hello, hello," she says, kissing my cheek. "How are you, new sister?""Fine," I say, trying to be polite, but I can't let myself forget why she's here. "Gregory sent you, huh?""Gregory requested my help," she says, sound
AllisonI try not to, but I end up having a really good time with Keely.For the next few days, the rules are suspended. Although we're trailed by a small army of bodyguards, I show Keely around Portland, starting with all the big tourist areas and moving into my favorite local spots. We get lunch, go on a couple hikes, see a movie, grab some dinner, even go dancing when Keely practically begs me to take her somewhere. "I used to do this all the tie with my bestie, Jamila," she says as she loses herself on the dance floor.She's a lot of fun and really easy to get along with. And it helps that she makes me this unbelievable batch of homemade donuts on the morning of her last day. We both know she's getting on the plane later that afternoon, but we don't talk about it. Instead, I eat way too much, give myself a minor sugar hangover, and sit out back in the comfortable morning breeze."Still on the fence?" she asks, and I know what she means."Not on the fence," I say. "Just not going."
AllisonGregory appears in the doorway after a while. He watches me, not speaking, before he comes to help. We rifle through my father's storage cabinet, and Gregory's hand appears on top of mine, lingering there for longer than necessary as he stares at me. "You're okay," he says. Not a question.He's right. Even though my face is streaked by tears. "I'm okay," I agree."Your sister loved you. I can see it all over this place.""You're right. We loved each other. It's just—" How can I explain to him? I feel guilty, yes, but also angry that she agreed to marry Paul. I'm a conflicting mess of emotions. "I just want this to be done.""We'll finish it then." He squeezes my hand, getting closer. "Together.""Can't do that from Boston.""We'll find a way."I pull back, not ready to make up, and head to my father's desk. Gregory watches as I sit down behind the computer. Then without a word, he begins searching again, flipping through documents, scanning files, leafing through old books.I
GregoryKeely returns to Boston empty-handed. "Sorry I couldn't be more help, but you've got one hell of a wife," she says before she goes."I appreciate your help."The house feels quiet once she's gone. Allison promises not to leave the premises and doesn't try to test her boundaries. Instead, she's depressed, staying in our room for long stretches at a time. I try to lure her out with good meals, but she's not interested in anything. Watching her spiral like this is one of the hardest things I've ever done.But there's one way to fix this. At least there's a path, and I have to take the steps myself, because I'm afraid Allison can't do it herself.It takes a week to set up the meeting. Orin, Sean, and I work tirelessly, making phone calls, begging, threatening, cajoling. I offer promises of safety, cash bonuses, whatever I need to say to get everyone to agree.But come Monday, the ten owners of the ten largest marijuana-producing farms in the state are seated around a conference ro