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)
“He’ll kill me if I go back, but the agony of staying away is tearing me apart every day.”
She doesn’t realize how much I understand her fear. Even when I left, I carried the fear so deep inside me that I thought I would never find a way to leave it behind.
Like a flame igniting, fury rises inside me, and I inhale a huge gulp of air but try to conceal my emotions.
“I haven’t made many good choices in my life, Jack. I need the money from this to try to get Hallie back. I’m sorry…I didn’t want to drag anyone else into this.”
I kiss her forehead but hold the words that form quickly in my mind in the cage of my mouth. Nothing that comes quickly to me is ever productive. I need to think about what she’s told me. And what is she planning on doing with the money exactly? A knot of unease twists in my gut.
I inhale deeply, my breath ragged in the silence of the room. The wind whips outside, and the cabin groans as though it’s waiting impatiently for my response.
“Does he know where you are?” I ask eventually. It’s key to understanding the risk to Skye and the danger that we’ll all get drawn into a big problem with a wannabe gangster.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t tell him what I was doing or where I was going. I left my phone behind.” Skye exhales and then bites her lip, a sure sign she’s holding onto something else.
“But…”
“He’s been involved with the auction before. The man who runs it doesn’t know I’m connected to Carter, but he’d remember me if shown a photo. The contracts have our names on them.”
“And…” I say the word to make sure I’ve given her the opportunity to tell me everything.
“I sent a message to someone I think is a friend to find out if she knows anything about Hallie.”
“Did she reply?”
Skye shakes her head, and her body shakes with sobs she’s trying her best to suppress.
“So, she knows your new phone number?”
Skye blinks up at me, wide-eyed. “Yes.”
“Can you trust her?”
The smallest shrug of Skye’s shoulders tells me everything I need to know.
We sit in silence now, apart from the heavy sound of our breathing. I pull her in tighter and run my hand gently up the small of her back to her shoulder and down again.
She’s no longer sweating, and she shivers slightly at my touch, especially when I make small circles against the thin cotton of her pajamas hanging loosely over her hip bones.
Her revelation doesn’t surprise me. Her sheer terror tonight when Ethan appeared made it obvious that there was someone she was hiding from. Skye’s put us all at risk, but I can’t blame her. Having her baby taken from her has made her desperate, and desperate people do stupid, selfish things.
Carter might be a dangerous man, but we are all dangerous men when it comes to protecting what’s ours. My jaw is granite. My hands flex into fists.
The guilt I feel about calling Skye a deadbeat mom forms a ball of shame that blocks my throat.
She’s sold herself for the possibility of reclaiming her child. She’s given everything she has for a small chance of saving her baby. This fragile woman is stronger than I ever could have imagined.
I think about my own mother and how much of my torture she witnessed and did nothing. She could have taken me and left. She could have tried to protect me, but she didn’t.
My stepfather was a violent and vicious man, but my mom’s apathy was worse.
Skye’s hand bunches in my shirt, clutching at it like a baby gorilla grips its mother’s fur. She turns her face into it, pressing a kiss against my heart. It’s an act of sweet tenderness that jars. I haven’t been a good man towards her. I’ve seen her as a threat to our way of life, but it’s more than that. From the moment I saw her, I knew she had the power to get under my skin.
The air around us feels suddenly charged as she squirms in my lap.
“Jack.” My name is a desperate, breathy plea.
I should resist what she’s asking for. Crying women don’t need sex. They need comfort and understanding.
At least women who’ve led happy and content lives need that.
People like Skye and me, who’ve experienced the worst of the world and been spat out on the other side, need different things altogether.
My cock thickening brings me back into the room. My hand glides like a silk thread to her waistline, and she gasps as my skin touches her soft, warm flesh. I trace my fingers over her ass and take one whole cheek in my open palm and squeeze gently, testing. She moans and adjusts herself, offering me her sweet spots, pushing herself back against my open hand. I linger for a moment and allow my hand to squeeze again before trailing my fingers down around the outside of her exposed ass.