Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Smirking, I took the cigarette from my mouth. “Tell Wilder I said hello. Sorry I’m missing his visit.”
Did they really think I was stupid enough to call from any phone they could trace? I had three more minutes before I had to end the call. He’d have this burner traced by that time. I knew the details and how it worked.
“You have got to bring her home,” Wilder said, taking the phone from King. “Stellan is fucking livid, and Blaise has been alerted.”
I stuck the cigarette back in my mouth and glanced back at the door to the cabin. I’d left Capri sleeping in bed to come make the call. I had known by now that things would get ugly. Couldn’t take the beloved minister’s daughter and no one notice.
“Can’t do that,” I replied.
“You can’t abduct her either!” Wilder shouted.
I thought about how sweet she’d been, curled up against me, after I fucked her last night.
“That’s a strong word. She’s real happy and taken care of.”
“Jesus Christ, you deal with him,” Wilder said.
“What is it with her, Thatch? You’ve done some crazy shit, but kidnapping an innocent female is fucked up, even for you,” King said, sounding stressed.
“She wants to be here. Now,” I replied.
Time was up.
“She’s good. Y’all need to let it go. I’ll handle the rest,” I replied, then ended the call before disabling the phone.
I had been prepared for that, but they’d needed to know it was good. She was fine. I’d assured them.
I finished the cigarette, then put it in the ashtray before going back inside. Biggest issue I saw was the boss. If he decided I had to be punished for this, then so be it. He wouldn’t kill me. They all needed me, and they knew it. When you were the best weapon they had, you could get away with more shit.
I started for the hallway leading back to the bedroom when Capri appeared. Another one of my T-shirts was covering too much of her body. She blushed and looked at me like I was the answer to all her problems. Damn, that was nice.
“Morning,” I said. “Hungry?”
She grinned. “I can cook, you know.”
Yeah, I knew. I’d watched her through the window countless times.
“You want to cook?”
She nodded.
I walked over to her, and those eyes of hers widened. She was still nervous with me. At least until I had her chasing an orgasm. The more I fucked her, the more agreeable she got. I was just getting more obsessed.
“All right,” I said, cupping the side of her face. She leaned into my hand, and, fuck, I liked that. “You cook, then I’ll eat. The breakfast, then you.”
The pink stain on her cheeks owned me. I loved making it pop up.
I dropped my hand and watched her walk over to the kitchen. Keeping her here forever wasn’t feasible, but I wanted to. I didn’t want to share her. I wanted her with me all the time. I was better when she was with me. Figuring out how to make that happen was the problem. Her parents had brought in the police and the news media. Typically, I planned things out. But she’d run from me, and I hadn’t thought clearly. There had been no planning.
The longer we stayed here, the closer it was to Wilder finding us. I had been careful, covering all paper traces when I bought this place five years ago. But Wilder was good at what he did. He’d find something that led him here. I just needed enough time to make sure she never left me. I needed her to love me.
Even if I had no fucking clue how to do that. I’d never fallen in love. I didn’t know what that felt like. I’d not even been in like. My own mother didn’t love me. My father wasn’t the affectionate sort. Besides, I was sure that emotion was one of the many I lacked the ability to feel.
Capri didn’t. She could love. I just needed her to love me. It was asking a lot. I didn’t think I was easy to love. But if she loved me, she wouldn’t leave me. She’d stay with me when they showed up. I knew fucking wasn’t love. I had done enough of it in my life to be aware there was no real attachment that formed. At least for me. Women, however, tended to get attached when sex was added.
If she couldn’t love me, then maybe there was a chance she would be addicted to me. She’d stay then too … I thought.
“How many eggs do you want in your omelet?” she asked me, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Four,” I replied.
She reached for the carton and began cracking them into a bowl. Seeing her there, cooking for me, made the possessive beast inside me begin to pace.