Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I hover on the precipice between right and wrong, good and bad, and everything inside me tilts toward doing the dishonorable thing. The thing that wipes all this away and leaves me standing on a pedestal of integrity.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to put all the blame on my father. He paved the trails of sin through Julep Ranch. He involved her husband and spent her money. I want to tell her Rogan died at his hands and convince her to let it go. I could do that so goddamn easily. She loves me. She’ll let me heal her and protect her, and with time, she’ll move on. With me.
The truth is impossible. It’s ugly, unforgiving, and it shakes me down the center of my soul.
She fell out of love with Rogan because she believes he stole from her and left her. But did he?
He left his belongings behind. He told her he would invest her money. Deep down, I know there’s a possibility he intended to return to her with a profit on his investments. I mean, how could he leave her? She’s beauty, innocence, compassion, and everything perfect in the world. No man would part with that.
If I tell her the truth, she’ll know I’m the reason her husband never returned.
If I don’t tell her, I’ll have to live with that lie for the rest of my life.
What do I do?
What kind of man am I?
I think I’m the wrong man. I’m John Holsten’s son. The selfish liar. Coldblooded murderer. Ruthless lover.
But she makes me want to be the right man. Selfless. Vulnerable. Buckled on my knees beneath the trust in her huge blue eyes. She makes me want to be the man deserving of that precious trust.
My hand shakes as I reach for her and grip her fingers. With a forceful tug, I lead her to the bed and motion for her to sit.
She lowers, her gaze alert and flicking over mine.
I kneel at her feet and rest my hand on her lap, palm up. “We made a blood oath the night Conor was raped. The four of us passed around a blade as Levi Tibbs lay unconscious at our feet.”
Her expression softens as she runs her fingers along my scar.
“We swore to one another…” The wood flooring grinds against my knees, balancing the flood of pain from my memory of that night. “We vowed to kill him when he was released from prison.”
A soft gasp slips past her lips. “He was released.” Her fingers twitch against my palm. “Is he—?”
“Dead? Yes. We killed him a few hours before you showed up at the ranch.”
She yanks her hand away, bowing backward. “No, Jarret—”
“I’m not finished.” I grip her hips and wedge my chest between her legs, holding her against me. “Your husband was a loan shark who extorted money, lent it to desperate people, and charged outrageous interest rates. He paid off my father’s debts and expected a share of the oil in return. He wasn’t involved in the initial attack on Conor and Lorne, but he spent the next five years ensuring they wouldn’t return to the ranch.”
She clutches at my shoulders, her chest rising and falling with the rush of her breaths.
“He hired contract killers.” I loosen my fingers on her hips, stroking her through the shirt in an attempt to comfort her. “He ordered them to kill Conor if she stepped foot on the ranch.”
“She’s his sister. He wouldn’t do that. How could he?”
“I have evidence, Maybe. Video recordings of my dad’s conversations with him.”
“Oh God.” Her eyes fill with tears. “Where is he, Jarret?”
“He’s dead.” My fingers dig into her waist.
She scrambles back, kicking in her desperation for space. I loosen my grip, giving her what she needs.
“How do you know?” She climbs off the far side of the bed, shaking violently. “Did you see it…happen?”
“I was there.” I remain on my knees with my heart in my hands and force out the words. “I killed him.”
My hands shake. My lungs heave for air, and the room narrows to the tick, tick, ticking time bomb in my chest.
Rogan is dead.
Murdered.
Gone.
The horror in my gut wages a war against the love in my heart.
Jarret killed my husband, and I still love him. Jarret. I love Jarret.
I’m a cheater.
Not just any cheater. I cheated on my husband with his murderer.
I wrap my arms around the hollow, frigid cavity of my ribs and chase my thoughts deeper into hell.
What if Rogan didn’t leave me? What if he always planned to come home?
He’s dead, and I never reported him missing. What kind of worthless, fucked-up person am I?
And can I even accuse him of stealing? I gave him full authority to invest my money. Technically, our money, since we were married. Did he let our finances slip into the red because he was gambling the money with the hope of making us rich? Was he really willing to kill Conor and Lorne to ensure that his investment turned a profit?