Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
"Now, Hope," I demand, my voice firm.
"What?" she growls, twin spots of color turning her cheeks red as her defiant eyes flash to mine.
"What were his charges, Firefly?"
"It doesn't matter." It's a lie. I see the pain and grief in her eyes.
"Tell me."
She hesitates and then expels a sad sigh. "Murder, okay? He killed my mom."
I rock back on my heels, shocked. I suspected her to tell me the charges were murder. I did not expect for her to say he murdered her mom. Jesus. No wonder she doesn't want to talk about it. "How old were you, baby?"
"Ten."
I circle around the checkout counter to her, wrapping my hand around hers to tug her toward me. Kieve lifts his head from his bone to look at me and then decides his bone is more interesting than I am. I pull Hope toward me, not stopping until she's pressed up against my chest.
"Thank you for telling me," I murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"It's not like you gave me a choice," she complains.
"Didn't like the look on your face."
"What look?"
"Like you had something to be ashamed of." I tuck a strand of her honey and cinnamon hair behind her ear. "What he did is on him. The shame and guilt isn't your burden to carry and it doesn't reflect on you, Firefly."
"Tell that to my classmates," she snorts, slipping from my arms to put distance between us.
Fuck. They were mean to her about it, probably threw it in her face just to hurt her. Kids can be real assholes sometimes, especially to those with parents who do something awful. In a perfect world, children wouldn't suffer for the sins of the father, but this world is far from perfect. All too often, they suffer anyway. I think maybe Hope knows that better than anyone.
She's right, though. If her father is in prison for life, I doubt he's behind the attacks. He stands to gain absolutely nothing. Even if he were to automatically inherit her estate upon her death, he'd never see a penny of it, not while he's serving life in prison for murdering her mom. Which means he probably isn't our guy.
"I'm going to step out and make a few phone calls. Will you be all right in here by yourself for a little while, Firefly?" I watch as she fidgets around by the registers, not really doing anything. She's just trying to avoid me. She's not used to being close to people. Or maybe it's that she's not used to being close to men. I don't know. But she's skittish, with walls built a mile high.
I intend to topple every one of them to the ground. I decided that approximately two minutes after meeting her. Looks like the water in this fucking town claimed another victim. Or maybe it's just Hope. I don't know. All I know is that her and her fiery spirit are mine.
"I'll be fine, Callum," she says. "Whoever keeps trying to get to me usually does it once I leave town. I guess they don't want to risk being seen."
"I'll be right outside. I'll have Grizz pick us up lunch when he drops off cameras and a bell for the door."
"Cameras?"
"You need security."
"I hired you."
I don't bother telling her that I'm not taking her money. I have a feeling it'll just piss her off. She's independent. "Eventually, you'll be on your own again, Hope," I murmur. "You need cameras so you can see what's happening out front while you're in the back and vice versa. You'll also be able to see Kieve in the courtyard to check on him. And a bell will alert you anytime the door opens."
"Fine." She throws up her hands. "Do what you want. I have a feeling you will anyway."
"Probably," I agree with a smile.
She narrows her eyes at me, muttering under her breath about bossy men who think they're the boss of her.
I chuckle and duck out of the shop, pulling my phone out of my pocket to call Dillon Armstrong. Green and gold St. Patrick's Day decorations flutter in the breeze all up and down the street, giving downtown a festive, bucolic air.
"This is Dillon," Armstrong growls on the second ring.
"It's Callum," I say. Dillon knows who I am. Even though Cormac runs the Texas branch of Carmichael Security, I've been spending more than my fair share of time here lately. Truth be told, Silver Spoon Falls just feels like home. The more I'm here, the more I want to be here. Cian and Corrin, our twin cousins, are back in Nashville. They're more than capable of handling shit there.
"What's up, Callum?"
"Hope Byrne," I state. "What do you know?"
"Figured I'd be hearing from you about her," he mutters. "Cormac warned me you were taking her as a client."