Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Well,” Jackson surveys the parking lot before closing the blinds, “looks like you lied to her. She won’t be happy about that. But if you want a nice room at The Four Seasons and wait for me to finish this, I’ll let you take the credit. I love my daughter so much I’m willing to let her think you’re her hero.”
“I saved your life … and hers.”
Jackson shakes his head. “You took a bullet because you were clumsy.”
Slade eyes him, and the truth is exchanged, but neither will make the other admit it.
“You left me to die,” Slade says.
Jackson nods several times while leaning against the door and crossing his arms. “But you just had to hold on for the paramedics.” He rolls his eyes.
“Who would put his dick in your daughter if I died?”
Jackson fists his hands and steps toward his son-in-law just as the bathroom door opens.
A wide-eyed Frankie wrapped in a towel stares at Slade.
Wearing a punchable smirk, Slade’s gaze slides to Jackson. “Are you going to introduce me to your piano teacher?”
“No.” Jackson opens the door. “Go home.”
“Jack?” Frankie says his name slowly.
“Jehovah’s Witness. He was just leaving. I told him we were both going to hell. Unsavable savages.” Jackson knows Slade won’t say anything revealing to Frankie because he doesn’t know what she knows or what’s safe to share.
“I’m Francesca.” She holds her towel with one hand and combs her hair with her other. “How do you know Jack?”
Slade eyes Jackson.
“Why did you tell a Jehovah’s Witness that I’m your piano teacher? I mean … I could teach you a lot, but that’s beside the point.”
Jackson narrows his eyes at Frankie.
Slade sniggers.
“You can’t tell me who you are, can you?” She gives Slade a curious expression, lips corkscrewed.
Again, Slade looks to Jackson for a response but gets nothing.
She shrugs. “Well, you’re nice to look at, so—”
“Christ, Frankie, just go back in the bathroom and put some fucking clothes on.” Jackson drops his head and rubs the back of his neck.
She flashes Slade a grand smile while snagging one of Jackson’s T-shirts from the drawer. Then she slips it over her head and lets the towel drop to the floor after the tee swallows her petite body.
“Are you staying?” she asks Slade. “Jack and I spoon, so one side of the bed is free.”
“Francesca!” Jackson grumbles. “Slade is my daughter’s …” He can barely say the word without choking on it.
“I’m her husband,” Slade says, clearly feeling confident it’s okay to share that information.
Frankie’s jaw drops. “Livy is one lucky girl.”
“A word.” Jackson grabs Frankie’s hand and pulls her outside, shutting Slade in the motel room alone.
She crosses her arms. “What a lovely surprise. Is he here to help? He looks helpful. Quite capable. And why didn’t you mention that Livy has a husband? I don’t see his name tattooed on you anywhere. But seriously, did you tell him I’m your piano teacher? I’m flattered. Really.”
Jackson waits patiently, unenthused by her spiel. “Are you done?”
She presses her lips together and nods. “For now, but I reserve the right to follow-up questions.”
“No more questions. I’m not answering the ones you asked. I just need you to listen and do exactly as I say. Can you do that?”
He knows the answer is no, but he hopes she’ll attempt it anyway.
Frankie shrugs a shoulder.
Jackson frowns. “That guy in there? I don’t like him. So you don’t like him. He’s supposed to be protecting my daughter, but he’s fucking that up by thinking I need his help more than she needs his protection. He’s not staying with us. Don’t engage with him. Don’t look at him. I will probably kill him if he doesn’t do as I say.”
Her brows shoot up her forehead.
He opens the door and drags her back into the motel room. “Time to go,” he says matter-of-factly to Slade, keeping the door open.
“Livy wanted me to show you photos of Wylder. Do you want to see them?” He holds up his phone.
Fuck.
“Who’s Wylder?” Frankie asks because she can’t follow simple instructions.
“Jackson’s grandson,” Slade says.
Jackson gives Slade a look. His daughter doesn’t know how to play fairly. She knew Jackson would be upset about Slade’s arrival, so she used one of Jackson’s greatest weaknesses to soften his reaction.
“Jack,” Frankie whispers before pressing a hand to her mouth.
He swears her eyes are welling with tears.
“You’re a grandpa? H-how old are you?”
“Fif—” Slade starts to speak.
“I will end you. Got it?” Jackson warns Slade.
“I want to see Wylder. How old is he? Do you have a picture of Livy too?” Frankie bleeds estrogen all over the motel room floor.
Jackson misses the woman who danced naked with him and sucked his cock with great enthusiasm. This Frankie looks ready to bawl her eyes out and run to the local craft store to buy yarn to knit his grandson a stuffed bear.