Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
"We'll discuss that later," he says. "Just keep an eye on the house and let me know if you see anyone, all right?"
"Okay. How far are you?"
"Two minutes."
No wonder callers always ask if we've sent anyone. Two minutes seems like a lifetime when you're waiting for help. I look all around, checking every shadow for the man.
"What do you want me to do if I see him?"
"Keep your pretty little ass in the car and drive," he growls. "Just give me a clothing description if you can get one. That's all I need from you right now, got it?"
"Got it."
I keep my eyes focused on the house. It's barely even six am. Shadow still cling to the block where the sun isn't even fully up yet, but it's light enough for me to see the front of the house at least.
"If he leaves through the back, I won't be able to see him."
"Doesn't matter. Just stay in the car. I'm almost there."
"It's a tan brick, third on the left. There are rosebushes out front."
"I know," he says, and I briefly wonder how he knows which house is mine, but quickly decide I probably don't want to know how he knows. "Which end of the street are you sitting on?"
"Blossom and Cider."
"Good. Stay there until I clear the house," he orders. "I'm turning onto Cider now."
A protest bubbles up in my throat, but I quickly silence it. As much as I don't want him to go in there alone, this is his job. I have to let him do it. That's why I called him, isn't it? Because this is his job?
No, a little voice whispers.
It's right, dammit.
I called him because…because he's the only person I wanted to comfort me. Because he's the only person who I knew would make me feel safe. He's under my skin, making himself at home in my veins, and I don't know how to get him out again now.
I'm not even sure I want to get him out again now. A month ago, I was absolutely certain I wanted nothing to do with him. Three days ago, I was committed to staying the path. Everything has changed since then. He's changing it—changing me.
And God help me, but I don't want him to stop.
"I'm pulling up now, princess." His takedown lights flash through the dark as he blows past me, his sirens no longer cutting through the air.
"Be safe," I whisper.
"Always," he promises.
I watch with my heart in my throat as he parks outside my house, hopping out with his gun drawn.
Please, let him be safe, I pray as he makes his way toward the front of the house, carefully checking his surroundings. Please.
Ten minutes later, my prayer is answered when he appears on the front lawn, motioning for me to come to him. I quickly put the car in drive, speeding toward him.
He meets me in the driveway, practically hauling me out of the car as soon as it's in park.
"Fuck," he growls, wrapping his arms around me. His lips brush the side of my throat as he inhales a deep breath. "My goddamn heart was in my ass the whole fucking way here, Molly."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, not even trying to pretend I'm not clinging to him. The whole time he was in the house, I didn't breathe. I was so damn scared something would happen and I'd never get a chance to tell him…everything. I've already wasted so much damn time, keeping him at arm's length, fighting him every step of the way. It seems so pointless and stupid now. He isn't my father. He's Easton—the man who comes running as soon as I call, even when it means facing his own fears. Even when it means fighting his own mind and his own memories.
He hooks his fingers under my chin, tipping my head back. "Do not ever apologize for calling me for help," he growls. "Don't ever apologize for needing me." His lips come down on mine in a hard kiss.
I whimper as he licks inside my mouth, kissing me senseless. He leaves me reeling as I cling to him, gasping for breath. And then he pulls back, resting his forehead against mine.
"Christ, I'm glad you called," he breathes.
"M-me too," I admit.
His smile is worth the anxiety that confession has churning away in my stomach. He brushes his lips against mine again and then pulls back as someone starts down the block.
I try to pull out of his arms, but he shoots me a dark warning look.
"Easton," I protest. "We work together. We need to at least try to keep this professional around our coworkers."
"Don't give a fuck about any of that. My life just flashed before my eyes. You aren't leaving my arms anytime soon, Molly."
I soften when I see the anxiety in his gaze. The bad memories linger in their depths. And yet, he came here without hesitation for me anyway.