Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I sink back down into the armchair, with Skye resting against my chest. Her warmth penetrates me through my threadbare shirt and boxer briefs. She’s trembling, but no longer sobbing, and slowly, her eyes open.
“What happened? What’s going on?” Her voice sounds like a frightened child, and she struggles again, like she wants to stand. I don’t let her go.
“I think you were having some kind of nightmare,” I tell her. “You were sleepwalking.” Skye considers what I said, moving her gaze from the fire, and fixes me with beautiful eyes that I can only just make out.
“Can you light the fire, Jack? I’m so goddamn cold!”
She’s talking like a lumberjack. Didn’t take long. I can’t help a half-smile.
“You were burning up back there.” She shivers, and I snort.
“Please, Jack.”
I lift her with me as I rise and place her gently against the back of the armchair. Her hair is damp and sticks to the side of her face. She begins to shiver more in a way that makes me hurry my pace as I light the fire. It doesn’t take long, and we both linger on the flame as it licks and rises into the cool air that has settled in the cabin. I’m pleased that Finn and West haven’t woken, and I fix my gaze on the light of the moon, which is now casting its beam directly in through the cabin window. The clouds have given way to a clear, midnight sky. I inhale the first trace of heat as it rises from the hearth. Was I dreaming of the rain earlier?
In my periphery, Skye shivers again. There’s a blanket over the back of the couch that I reach for as I make my way back to where she’s sitting.
I don’t expect her to lift her arms out to me, but she does with a needy, desperate look on her face. I scoop her up and sit back down, laying her across my lap. She rests her head against my chest as I pull the blanket around us both. She feels so small and so fragile. And helpless, too.
West and Finn suspect she’s running from something. Maybe this is my opportunity to find out if they’re right.
She lets out a small sigh, and for a moment, I think she has fallen asleep, but then her eyes open, and she stares at me.
“West told me he thinks you’re on the run. Is it true?”
Skye ducks her head, lowering her gaze and pressing her face into my shirt. She trembles against me as though even thinking about what she’s left behind is enough to fill her with fear.
In the doorway, the shadowy forms of Finn and West take shape, disturbed by Skye’s cries, but I hold up my finger, stopping them in their tracks. They can listen but coming any further risks Skye clamming up.
My jaw tightens, and I tip her chin with my hand, forcing her to look at me. “You’re here with us now, and you need to know that we’ll keep you safe, no matter what. But I don’t like not knowing what kind of threat there might be waiting around the corner. You might be scared, and I get why some secrets are easier to keep, but you have to give us a fighting chance to face whatever might be coming so we can protect you.”
A sob struggles form her throat, and she seems to shrink beneath the blanket. “He took my baby, Jack.” Another sob rips from her, and I draw her closer.
“Who, Skye? Who took your baby.”
“My husband, Carter Reynolds.”
I know that name. He’s a small-time gangster with big plans and blood on his hands. When I was in law enforcement, we had eyes on him for a small-scale drug operation, and his bar was thought to be a front for other nefarious activities. Lately, he’s been in the papers for securing a big construction contract. He’s dangerous because he has small-man syndrome, constantly trying to compensate for his self-hatred with grandiosity and bravado. Men like that are the worst kind to fall in love with.
I could tell Skye all this, but I don’t want to layer anything else into her already overwhelming fear, so I remain silent but squeeze her a little tighter to signal for her to go on.
“She’s only nine months old.” Skye pauses, and her throat catches. She struggles to speak, and I can feel her adjusting her position in my lap. I hold her in a tighter hug.
“Leaving her behind has broken my heart. She’s my world. My life. Carter took her, and he wouldn’t give her back. I’ve no power against him. Not with all the terrible men he has on his payroll. I knew if I stayed and tried to find her, I’d end up dead somewhere. I had to keep myself alive. You have no idea what he’s like.” Her voice is now a whisper, as if it’s easier for her to speak that way without crying. As if her words may not be real if she says them quietly enough. It’s something I understand.