Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 113473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“I’m going back to that doctor, right?”
“Yeah. Tuesday.”
“Are you going with me?”
“Want me to?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. This woman kept knocking him for a goddamn loop.
“Yes. Please.”
“Stella was going to go with you.” And now that he knew Stella had a baby at some point, she’d be best to help Red and would know what the fuck was going on during the appointment better than him.
“I want you.”
I want you, too. But not in the way Red meant when she said it. Even so, he was too fucked up for her. Even after her ordeal with the baby was over, there was no way she could deal with his shit. She had dealt with enough. “Why?”
“I just do.”
“Red, you’d be better off if Stella went with you. She knows about... those things. I don’t know shit about... that type of thing.”
“The doctor will be checking to see how the seed is.”
“Yeah. And you, too. She was worried about you.”
“She wants the seed.”
“Yeah, Red, she wants a seed of her very own.”
Red needed to stop calling it a fucking seed and see the baby for what it really was. It was important that she realize what would happen to that kid after she gave birth to it. She needed to be really fucking sure about giving the kid up, if that’s what she decided. Because once she signed those papers, he wasn’t sure if the adoption could be reversed.
He didn’t want her to regret giving up her flesh and blood down the road, even if the baby was a result of a rape, even if it was sired by one of those inbred goat fuckers.
“Why can’t someone plant one in her?”
Sig frowned. Sometimes her questions sounded like one a child would ask. Other times, like while watching the news, she sounded super smart. She had two sides to her. Her real self that drew him and her broken self, which worried him.
Somehow her broken self needed to be healed so she could once again be whole. Maybe it would happen once she had the baby, once she was no longer tied mentally to the Shirleys.
He could only hope that for her.
It would also help her if she knew those assholes would never be a threat to her again. Or the baby.
And that was where he could do his part for her.
Knowing she was safe could help her heal and move forward.
But he also needed to know what the fuck went on up there. He needed to know who did what to her.
They couldn’t just go up there and massacre them all, though he’d fucking like to. They needed to do it quietly and be fucking precise. Pick off the ones who made her suffer.
They would never go to the pigs. Which meant, Sig could get away with doling out fucking justice to the few who deserved it. The PD might never know that the town had a couple less citizens. And being who they were, the pigs might not even care. They felt no love for those “sovereign citizens” who lived by their own laws and gave the pigs the middle finger salute.
But without her talking, he had no choice but to go up that goddamn mountain to see what he could find out on his own.
And nothing or no one was stopping him.
Chapter Eleven
Sig blinked. And blinked again. He winced as the light from the big picture window caused a knife to stab at his brain all Chucky-like. It didn’t help that Red had tucked up the sheet covering that window so the morning—he assumed it was still morning—sunlight was blinding him.
Also proving he drank way too fucking much last night. Among other things.
He needed a little hair of the dog to help with this morning’s hangover.
He groaned, closed his eyes and shoved his hand down his boxers, grabbing his morning hard-on and stroking it lazily.
Thank fuck Red wasn’t in bed right now to witness how hard he was. Or maybe she had and bolted from the bed because of it.
He frowned when he heard the toilet flush and the shower start. With as big and awkward as she was getting, he worried about her slipping in the tub.
He tossed off the sheet and pursed his lips as he stared at the tent in his boxers.
Did he have time? And how would he get rid of the load? Sock? Shirt?
No shirt. She was wearing his shirts and probably wouldn’t appreciate pulling one over her head and finding it stiff with his load.
His gaze slid to the bedroom door. It was closed, so he’d at least have time to let go of his dick before she walked in.
He squeezed and tugged at his balls, then fisted his cock again, his eyelids getting heavy, as the urge to pull one off quick made his hand slide up and down faster.