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)
None of this feels real. There’s no way this is Jack’s life, his family. His twin.
Archer glances around the room as if it’s made of glass windows, encompassing his property. “Can you imagine two people their age taking on my fully armed twenty-something men? They’re not true immortals. I bet their joints ache like mine do some days. I bet they drink more whiskey and tequila than Gatorade and Red Bull. You just don’t get to your late fifties and not feel like you’re deteriorating by the end of a long day.”
Late fifties?
“Maybe you’re too old to live this life,” I say, resigned to whatever happens to me.
“This life? The good life?” He narrows his eyes.
“Control is exhausting. Revenge is exhausting. Looking over your shoulder. Needing armed men around you at all times. Maintaining the illusion that you have a good life. A solid marriage. The perfect child. Wearing a tie you seem to hate because you’re always adjusting it like it's strangling you. Maybe you’re the one who needs to submit to control, not to remind you of what it feels like to have it, but rather to remember what it feels like to be human—to be vulnerable.”
Archer bobs his head. “Conceivably. However, this world is not a utopia. You conspired with the enemy to kill me. So human I can no longer be.”
“I didn’t conspire to kill you or anyone. I was at the cemetery telling my family goodbye before going home.” My voice escalates.
“And before that, you were with Jude Day. You can’t untangle yourself from this web you’ve willingly helped weave. So here we are, waiting to see who dies first. Will Jude let it be you? Or will he die to save you?”
“Is there a scenario where I live?”
He stands, adjusting his belt. “If six guards and myself die before you, then yes. But you seem pretty smart, so do the math. Now, I’m going to shower before we make our way to the piano because I’m considerate. Care to join me?”
“Yes,” I say, feigning every bit of confidence.
His eyebrows lift a fraction. “I wish I could trust you.”
“I doubt it. I think you get off on the fact that you know you can’t trust me. So why don’t you untie me, and let’s play.”
Archer chortles. “Did he teach you something? Can you snap my neck? Break my nose? Is that you’re idea of playing? It was Jessica’s. I think we’ll have more fun if you’re restrained. You had your chance. It’s not my fault you were too weak to follow through.” He exits the library, leaving the photos on the floor.
I stare at the parts of them that are exposed in the scattered pile.
Jude will kill someone without much thought.
Turning away from the photos, I lean my head against the side of the chair and close my eyes before they fill with a new round of tears. I just want to go home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
JACKSON
“There are six guards and eighteen cameras,” Slade says, trekking back toward Jackson.
“We need to disable the cameras,” Jackson mumbles, lifting his gaze from the scope of his rifle and massaging his neck.
“I’m listening.” Slade rests a hand on his hip.
Jackson feels every ounce of his scrutiny. He hears all of Slade’s unspoken words. They don’t have a team—no one to cut the electricity. An assassin's greatest tool, besides patience, is the element of surprise. There is no time for patience, and with a hostage, the element of surprise is lost.
Archer’s well-prepared for his attackers. He’s waiting patiently because he can. If Jackson focuses on saving Frankie’s life, he can make a plan that might not get executed in the next few hours. He has no time if he goes one step further and attempts to keep her safe from other things Archer might do to her. In fact, he might be too late.
He hears her words.
“It’s flesh and bones. It’s not me. It’s not who I am. It’s a vehicle.”
Frankie is strong, but she’s not Jessica. And even his sister would say only death can separate the mind from the flesh and bones. Maybe she can survive whatever Archer might do to her by having a laser focus on the only thing that could feel like a silver lining—that she’s still alive. The question is, will that feel like a gift or a curse?
“Pretend it’s too late for her,” Slade says. “It’s the only way we can do this. You need to let all thoughts of her go.”
“You’re not thinking of Livy?”
Slade glances at Jackson while pulling his binoculars out of his vest. “No.”
He doesn’t expect Slade’s answer to be that quick and resolute. At this moment, he realizes Slade is the better assassin. He’s old enough to have a sharp mind and a steady hand from experience. Jackson remembers the confidence that came with those honed skills. But despite losing so much, he still has infinitely more than he’s ever had. That more makes clearing his mind nearly impossible.