Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
He was just all-business, all clenched and chiseled jaw.
He leaned down, his elbows on his knees. His hip pressed into my side. “It’s a website. We’ve been trying to get it taken down, but it never works. It pops back up. So now we mostly monitor it. I am so fucking sorry that you got pulled into this.”
God.
He meant it. He wasn’t showing me anything, but his tone was ragged.
That tore through me, for some reason.
I was tied to a bed. Two guys had been killed in front of me, and now there were pictures of me on some website?
My eyes welled up. A tear rolled down my face.
He watched it go, his jaw clenching again, but his shoulders only rose and held before he let out a soft exhale. He tipped his head up, meeting my gaze. “I have to be blunt with you. You can’t leave.”
No . . .
I asked, “Where’s my phone?”
“You can’t call anyone. You can’t have them call you. Once you’ve been identified, there are going to be men searching for you as well. That means tagging your family, intercepting any call they might get from you. Tracing it. Law enforcement can’t help, not in this situation. You walk out that door, and they will kill you. They’ll kill you because they’ll try to use you to get to me, and Sawyer”—he leaned in, his eyes going almost primal—“they’re not going to be successful. You got me? I’d like to tell you that I’m a good guy, but the truth is that I’m not. I sold my soul a long fucking time ago, and while I’m not scared about dying, there’s a few things I’m going to do before I let that happen. So if you want to stay alive, your best bet is doing what I tell you.”
My heart had paused, waiting to hear what he’d said. It fell now, along with letting some fear slither in.
He would let me die to save his own ass.
“The house is on lockdown.” He stood, his voice dropping, back to business. “Every door. Every window. We’ve got seven miles of woods around us so if you run, I’ll hear the minute you try leaving. Trust me, I will hunt you down.”
My mouth went dry as he loomed over me.
“Do you understand me?”
“I understand you’re a selfish prick. I understand that,” I spat at him.
I was seething inside.
Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything. “I have stuff to do! Things. Lists. A bucket list that . . .” That I would not be finishing now.
He ignored my glaring and began untying me. “I’m assuming you need the bathroom again.”
“Yes. That’s on the list too,” I snapped at him. As soon as I was free, he scooped me up from the bed. I began squirming to get free. I really really had to go, but Jake only held me tighter and walked me into a bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. He lifted the lid, sat me down, and reached for my jeans.
I began hitting him. “Oh no. No way. I’m not that hard-up for sex.”
Not anymore.
“I’m trying to help you. Your hands were tied in the same position for hours.”
“And who tied them? Fuck you.” I shoved at him, trying to get him away from me, ignoring the feeling of needles coursing through my arms and hands.
He stopped, but lifted his head, his face two inches from me, and he scowled. “You want to piss your pants? Have at it.” He stalked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
As soon as he was gone and as soon as there was a barrier between us, I let it down.
There was a wall that I erected inside of me, around my heart. I’d need to keep everything locked up inside if I was going to get out of this alive because no matter how much I thought my life was over before, it was nothing to this situation.
It was almost laughable. To think I’d been so devastated about the two decades I gave to Beck and my best friend.
Funny. That didn’t have the same paralyzing pain it had a day ago.
Chapter Eleven
Jake
Everything was completely screwed.
I could hear Sawyer crying inside, but fuck. Fuck!
Because of my dipshit decision, she was involved. Kidnapping. Jesus Christ. If we survived—no, fuck that. We would. She and I together.
My phone began ringing, and looking at the screen, a hollow laugh ripped out of me. I hit accept and went to the kitchen, pouring myself a stiff drink. A very stiff drink.
“Walden. What gave you the idea I’d want to speak to you again?”
Ashton Walden laughed smoothly on the other end, but I expected nothing less from him. He was the head of the Walden Mafia, one of the two families in control of the city. The other was led by his best friend, and while I had hatred for Ashton’s best friend and the best friend’s woman, that was on a personal level. The same wasn’t so for Ashton himself. There was a sort of past with him that filled me with regret, self-loathing, and the odd mix of fondness. Another life and we might’ve been friends, but not this life.