Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
I offer her a nod in return, noting the warmth in her eyes. Before she was Lucian’s wife, Gypsy was a hustler who left a trail of broken hearts in her wake. Like most of the people in Lucian’s life, he saw something tragic in her. He wanted to rescue her, and he did. But what most people don’t know is that she saved him, too.
Now the tall, dark-haired bombshell dedicates her time to her family, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting her to give me a piece of her mind. She knows how much I’ve been hounding her husband over the past few days, but she also knows how important his work is to him.
Lucian is the criminal defense lawyer who had the unfortunate luck of believing in me. He took on my case, sat by my side through the hell of a trial, and somewhere along the way, he became more like a brother than anything. Now he’s the sounding board for my frustrations and the voice of reason who tries to keep me from going back to the darkness.
“He’s in his office.” Gypsy walks with me down the hall. “He’s been expecting you.”
She leads me to her husband’s den, and when she opens the door, Lucian is at his desk, sifting through a stack of papers.
“Madden.” He glances up and sets his documents aside. “Come in. Have a seat.”
I nod and sit down across from him.
He’s one of the few people who still calls me by my given name, but only when we’re in private. After the trial, I came to Vegas because I wanted to be close to Zoe and her grandmother, but the added incentive was that Lucian told me there was a place here with other men like me. Given that I couldn’t even walk into a grocery store at the time without someone recognizing my face, The Beards of War Motorcycle Club was a much-needed refuge. All the men there had similar backgrounds, many of them being Lucian’s clients, and they knew what it was like to live with a dark cloud hanging over their heads. I settled in with the group, earning the moniker Kodiak after they told me I could be a surly motherfucker sometimes. I accepted the new identity without a second thought, and if it were up to me, I wouldn’t care if anybody ever uttered the name Madden Keller again. But Lucian likes to remind me that man still exists somewhere inside me.
“Would you like a drink?” Gypsy asks.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Alright, I’ll leave you boys to it then.” She shuts the door behind her as she goes.
“Any news today?” I ask Lucian.
He shakes his head. “Not much. The remains were skeletal. They were in the same style of suitcase as the others, but it came undone at some point, so they’re only partial. They haven’t located a skull yet, so DNA testing could take weeks, if not months.”
“Her skull was missing?” I force the words through gritted teeth.
Lucian arches a brow at me. He thinks I’m holding on to my sanity by a thread, and he doesn’t try to hide it. “How much sleep have you been getting? You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “But I’m fine.”
“Ace says otherwise.”
“Ace worries too much,” I tell him.
Lucian studies me, and I swear his eyes are five thousand years old. There’s nothing he doesn’t see.
“It’s not uncommon for men in your position to doubt themselves,” he says. “When everyone else believes in your guilt, it’s easy to start questioning it. But punishing yourself is another story.”
“How are you so sure I didn’t do it?” I meet his gaze with a dead stare.
“Because I still remember the man I met that day I came to see you. Your grief was real.”
His voice is distant, and I know he’s not just thinking about the day we met. He’s a man haunted by his own grief, and that darkness blots out his eyes whenever something reminds him that he once failed someone too.
“I need to know if this is her,” I say. “What can we do to move it along? Were there any clothes? Jewelry?”
Lucian sighs, opening his desk drawer to retrieve a card. “I want you to see someone. She’s a friend. A psychologist—"
“I’m not having a goddamn breakdown,” I growl. “And I don’t need to see anyone.”
“Just take it.” He slides it across the desk, and I glare at the offending name. “If not her, then Father Hawk, perhaps.”
“I have to go.” I leave the card and head for the door.
“Madden.” Lucian’s voice stops me. “Stay out of Texas. You have to stop looking for her body.”
“Why?” I turn to meet his gaze.
“Because it’s only drawing more attention to you.”
“Does it really matter?” I shrug. “People are going to think what they want, regardless.”