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)
“Y-yes.” I swallow hard.
“If I were a killer, do you think I’d have time to watch a YouTube video to learn how to fix your leaky toilet?”
Every cell that makes up my body collectively exhales. “You’re an asshole.”
He grins, and it’s the biggest grin I’ve seen from him. A stellar smile that fits such a sexy man.
“Can I ask why you’re living in a garage?” I inspect his space with a scrutinizing eye.
“Do you think a guy living in a garage would want anyone to know why he’s living in a garage?”
He’s not a homeless man. Homeless men don’t have grand pianos. Homeless men don’t drive BMWs.
“Do you really shower with that hose over the drain?”
He nods.
“Is it only cold water?”
Another nod.
He’s out of his mind. It must be this part of Kansas. Everyone’s a little … off.
“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your job? Your husband? Kids? Golden retriever?” he asks.
“I screwed the dean's husband.” My lips pucker like a duck’s. “Maybe because I don’t have my own husband.”
His eyebrows slide up his forehead.
I shrug. “That’s why I lost my job.”
“I didn’t need those details.”
“I know. That’s why I told you.”
Jack eyes me like he’s solving something. “My name.”
“What?”
“The first tattoo I got was my name.”
I laugh, but it comes out as a giggle. “Seriously? Where?”
He holds out his arms like he’s seeing his tattoos for the first time. “It’s been buried by other tattoos.”
“You’re supposed to get ‘Mom’ or your first love’s name, not your name.” I cover my mouth to hide my grin.
“It was for my mom.” He rubs his jaw. “She always said, ‘Don’t ever forget who you are.’”
“You,” I point a finger at him, “basically got PEMDAS as your first tattoo.”
The ghost of a smile holds his lips despite the tortured soul deep in his eyes.
We stand in silence for a few seconds, just … staring at each other. Does he see how tortured I feel too?
“I can’t let go,” I whisper.
Lines spread across his brow.
“They should still be alive. So I can’t just … let it go.” With a painful laugh, I run my hands through my hair. “Eloise keeps reminding me that nothing I do will bring them back. And I know that. But …” I shake my head and sigh. “I don’t know how to move on.”
“Letting go is hard.” Jack’s gaze drops to the floor.
“And holding on is an illusion.” I open the door. “Thank you for fixing my toilet. Good men are a dying breed. So … don’t die.”
CHAPTER FIVE
JACKSON
Jackson Knight has one goal—to get back to his family.
He’s close. So very close. But he can’t let go of the possibility that he will rush things—miss something—and the consequences could be catastrophic.
“How are your kids?” he asks his sister, Jessica.
“They’re good.”
Jessica and her husband, Luke, sent their kids out of the country to an undisclosed location. Everyone’s waiting for Jackson to finish this so they can have normal lives again.
Get married.
Complete college.
“It will be over soon.” He stares at the ceiling from his cot in the garage, his phone on speaker beside him. “I hate this life.”
“It’s the only one you’ve got.”
“Mmm …” He sighs. “What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not the last one?”
“We’ve been over this ad nauseam. He’s it.”
Again, Jackson hums. “When it was just us, taking chances came easier. We have families now. Risking them isn’t an option.”
“Jackson … life is a risk. Finish this and come home.”
“How’s Livy?” He shifts to his favorite subject.
She laughs. “You don’t want to know.”
Jackson throws an arm over his head. “He’s knocked her up again, hasn’t he? I should have killed him like I killed his father.”
“Jackson … she’s alive because of him. And he is her husband.”
He grumbles.
“How’s Eloise?” Jessica asks. “Have you sweet-talked your way into her adult diapers?”
“Fuck you.” He chuckles.
“She’s your type.”
“She’s a phenomenal cook, but my type might be shifting.” Jackson married a woman ten years his elder. He found older women to be more intellectually stimulating. He loved Ryn as no man had ever loved a woman.
However, his brother-in-law would argue that point. And that’s fine because Jessica is, in many ways, the greatest love of Jackson’s life.
His twin. And she deserves the world.
Killing people has lost its luster over the years. Jackson no longer feels an ounce of adrenaline or fear for his life.
One last target. The final piece of the puzzle. Yet, the highest-hanging fruit.
His target is exorbitantly wealthy and well-protected. That’s how Jackson knows it isn’t over. Who needs that kind of security if there’s no threat? And if his target thinks Jackson is a threat, then he is an equal threat to Jackson and his family. It’s hard to distinguish the prey from the predator—it depends on the day.
“What the actual fuck?” Jackson murmurs from his BMW parked outside The Lark, an overpriced steakhouse in Rhodale’s Uptown Market. Frankie breezes past the outdoor seating area, wearing a strapless red dress and heels women wear when they want something from a man. He does a double take to make sure it’s her.