Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“And I love you for that. Eventually, you’ll get more comfortable with the idea of everybody treating me better.” As if on cue, we pass a cluster of students who go out of their way to smile at us.
“Have you got used to it?”
“That’s another story.” When I raise an eyebrow, she shrugs. “I’m trying. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, that’s all.”
“Aspen, you’re my wife and Lucas’s daughter. Everybody knows. And if anyone so much as glances at you the wrong way, they’ll have their asses handed to them two times over.” I can’t help but chuckle. “Actually, I’m sure they would be afraid of you, too.” News of what she did to Nash spread like wildfire. I would laugh at the stupidity of anyone believing my Aspen would do the same to them, but it might not be such a bad thing for our schoolmates to have a healthy sense of concern. If it keeps them behaving themselves.
She shoots me a look of surprise when, on reaching the apartment, I grab my coat. “Where are you going?”
“Get your coat. There’s something I want to show you.” I’ve fought with myself over whether to share this with her and when. It isn’t exactly as if I’m keeping secrets, but something tells me she would like to know.
“What is it?”
“Call it a wedding gift.”
“We were married a week ago.”
“Is there a statute of limitations on wedding gifts?”
“Fair enough.” She’s wearing a playful smile as she grabs her coat, eyes gleaming with anticipation. She has no idea what she’s in for. I only hope she understands why it took me this long to tell her the truth.
Her eyes are wide as I lead her out to the helicopter pad and give the pilot his instructions. It’s hardly the first time he’s made this flight, after all. But it’s a first for her. “What’s my present? A lot of snow? Maybe some wind?”
“Keep it up with that smart mouth, and I’ll show you what else you can do with it later.” The thought stirs me below the belt, and the wicked gleam in her eye tells me she wouldn’t see it as punishment. The half-hour flight passes pleasantly, with Aspen admiring the sparkling snow beneath us.
When we reach the hangar, there’s no more playfulness. “Are we flying somewhere else?” she asks, then eyes the old plane warily. I laugh to myself, knowing what her assessment of the rusted piece of junk must be.
“Not today.” Bruno and Rick have made themselves scarce, as I asked them to when I texted on the way here. I don’t want anyone interrupting this. I don’t want anyone sharing this with us either. This is for Aspen and me. Nobody else.
She eyes the empty office where Bruno and Rick must have been interrupted in the middle of a game of cards. A pistol lies in the center of the table. Are they betting their weapons now? Whatever it takes to pass the time, I suppose.
Aspen is growing more wary by the minute. Her body language is tense, and when I reach for her hand, it’s cold and clammy.
“You don’t have to worry.” I try to assure her, but she is clearly not fond of this whole situation.
We stop in front of one of the two iron doors, and I turn to her. “You might be surprised by what you find behind this door,” I explain. “I want you to know you have nothing to be afraid of. No one can hurt you.”
“Quinton, what is this about?” Her question is laced with fear, and it kills me to see her like this.
“Everything is going to make sense in a moment. I only wanted to make sure it didn’t come as too much of a shock. I’ve waited weeks to give this to you.” I jerk my chin in the direction of the second door. “In both of these rooms are guests. At least one of them was involved with your attack.”
She sucks in a sharp breath but says nothing.
“You deserve to face him, but if you don’t think you can handle it, that’s okay. I want you to have a choice in this. If you would rather go back, we can do that right now. Or you can meet them and decide their fate. That’s what this is really all about. You get to decide.”
Her eyes go perfectly round. “Who is it?” she murmurs. “I thought everybody was dead.”
“Not quite yet,” I explain. “There are some things worse than death. Take a person’s freedom away, for instance. Make them live in fear, so they never know what’s coming next. Remove all contact with the outside world so they can’t rely on anyone. No protection. Not even the possibility of help.”
I can’t help but smile. “And every once in a while, have them roughed up a little. Sometimes for no reason at all. Keep them guessing. Whittle away their sense of self-determination. It can be a lot more satisfying than simply putting somebody’s lights out.”