Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“It will be.” She thought the line disconnected, but Camila’s voice came back. “Be careful.”
“Thank you.” For everything. The phone went dead.
She drove in silence for ten minutes before Josh breached the conversation she’d been expecting. “I’m trying to understand what you’re feeling right now and what you felt for him exactly.”
“I’m not sure I will ever understand it.” Van protected her from Mr. E in the best times, and her body bore his bruises on the worst days. Above all, he gave her a daughter. “I loved him and hated him with damaged devotion. He was embedded in my life for seven years. You don’t rip that away and feel nothing.”
He nodded, unbuckled his seatbelt, and gave her exactly what she needed. Twisting in the seat to face her, he slid a hand over her belly and clenched her hip. His other hand combed her hair from her nape, gripping the strands at the back of her head. With his body curled around her side, he dropped his head on her shoulder, the warm tendrils of his breath twining around her neck. He didn’t move for the length of the drive, and it was in that loving clench that she found the strength to forgive herself for killing Van.
Forty-five minutes later, they sat in the car, glaring across the street at a two-story home. Middle-income neighborhood, manicured lawn, well-lit walkway, and hanging flower baskets, it resembled every other house for ten blocks.
Dusk had settled. Cars lined the curb on both sides of the sparsely lit street. Van’s Kia blended in, but if Mr. E glanced at the car from his front window, he would spot them. The Kia was a generic car, but he knew what Van drove. He could make the connection if he were suspicious enough.
Josh caressed a warm palm over her thigh. “Mr. E hasn’t spent a dime of his illegal money, huh?”
She wrinkled her nose at the simple lines of his lackluster home. “He’s a police chief. How would he explain million-dollar luxuries?”
His strong profile watched the street. “He could’ve cut ties, retired to the French Rivera, and lived off of his fortune. Why is he doing this?”
She blew her cheeks out. “Maybe he likes trafficking humans. The power. The corruption. Maybe he’s just greedy and wants more money before he retires.” She grabbed the two black scarves from the backseat and coiled one loosely around Josh’s neck. “Better than chains, right?”
He leaned in and stole a kiss. “I love your chains, Liv.”
A flutter lifted in her chest. She looped the second scarf behind her neck. They would sneak in with their faces concealed, shoot the greedy motherfucker, and leave before anyone noticed. Easy as gutting all the other millionaire slave-owners.
Across the street, the front door opened. Josh gripped her hand as an older man strode along the walkway, shoulders squared, eyes on his phone. The outdoor lighting accentuated the streaks of silver in his black hair. She recognized the police chief in the news articles.
The road was free of traffic noise. If she rolled down the window, they’d be able to hear his footfalls. Could she shoot him at this distance? A shiver licked down her spine. “What if he’s texting Van? Or me?” Her blood pressure skyrocketed. “What if he’s on his way to the house? Fuck, what do we do?”
He squeezed her hand tighter. “Deep breaths, Liv. We’ll follow him.”
When Mr. E reached the SUV parked in the driveway, the front door opened again. A little girl ran out in blue-jeans and light-up sneakers with long brown hair winding around her shoulders. Her tiny chin pointed up, her eyes alight with laughter.
Fear and joy collided in a rush of nausea. “Josh. Her smile…Oh God, her smile.” She slapped at the button that rolled down the window just in time to hear, “Daddy! Daddy, wait up!”
A disgustingly familiar chuckle bounced down the driveway. “Come on, Livana. We’re in a hurry.”
Chapter 40
“No, no, no, no.”
Liv’s whisper seeped into Josh’s pores and chilled his bloodstream. Hooking his arms around her chest, he pulled her away from the window. “Are you sure that’s her?” He hoped to God she was wrong.
“Yes.” Her voice was a tearful hiss, whipping through the dark interior of the car.
He pressed his lips to her cheek in an attempt to soothe her, holding tight to her heaving body. “If he’s going to Temple, I don’t think he’ll bring your daughter with him.” The daughter Mr. E raised. His son’s daughter. His granddaughter. It made the decision to kill him a cluster of confusion.
He dragged his nose through her hair, his head swimming. Fifteen days ago, he’d sat in his Christian Ethics class, rooted in the belief that murder was a grave moral evil. A capital crime punished with eternal damnation. That was before he’d met Mr. E and the buyers’ network of soulless greed. Before his convictions had been tested.