Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“You wouldn't be changing the subject, would you?” With a smirk, I take the bag, shaking my head. “It'll be a cold day in hell when I accept help to change my bandages.”
“Whatever you say.” She purses her lips, and to my surprise, she trails along behind me as I walk toward the bathroom. “What?” she questions, noticing my curious expression.
“You don't want to watch this, do you?”
“I thought I would hang around and talk with you.” When she bites her lip, those familiar worry lines appear between her brows, and I realize this is what she needs. This is our first time being truly alone since before she was taken—the hospital doesn't count, especially with the ever-present threat of a nurse or administrator strolling in at any time. I can't pretend I don't crave her nearness with every fiber of my being.
“Be my guest.” I set everything up on the vanity while she closes the lid to the toilet and takes a seat.
“Does it hurt?” she asks once I've removed my button-down and revealed the bandaged wound on my side.
“As much as you would expect a bullet wound to hurt.”
“I'm sorry.” She frowns.
“Bianca.” Setting everything down, I stare at her in the mirror. “Let's get one thing straight: you are not to blame yourself for this. I would think it's obvious by now, but I have no problem reminding you that I would take a hundred bullets for you if it meant sparing your life?”
“Don't say that, please. I almost lost you once before. I don't want to think about you taking any more bullets, least of all for me.”
“It's the truth, Bianca. Your life is much more valuable than mine, and I will do anything to ensure you're safe and taken care of.”
“That's your opinion.” Her lips set into a firm line, and she lowers her gaze to the floor. I get the feeling there's something on her mind, something she might not have been comfortable sharing before now. She's had days to think things over, and it's taken every scrap of self-control to give her the time and space she needs to work through it. I can't revert to demanding things from her when she isn't ready to share. I can't scare her off. “That was the worst part, honestly. When I knew you would find out I was missing, that Tatum was missing, and there was nothing I could do to help you. That was easily the worst part.”
I know the feeling, since the ugly scenarios my imagination insisted on spinning up were enough to test my sanity. “What else? I mean, what else did you go through? You can tell me. It's important for you to talk these things out, too, just like it is for Tatum.”
“I don't know. I knew in my heart you would come for me. I knew you were doing your best. But he...” The hair on the back of my neck rises, and it isn't easy to be gentle and give her time to find the words. Instinct makes me want to demand, to grill her, and get every last detail out of her in hopes of pulling together a way to punish that bastard.
“What did he do?” I have to ask after several teeth-grinding moments of silence.
“He said he would take me somewhere else and hide me. He said...” Her voice catches, and I don't even realize I'm holding my breath, waiting for her to speak till my lungs start to burn. “He told me he would keep me until the baby was born, then sell the baby, and me, if he didn't get what he wanted from you.”
Calm. Be calm. She needs you to keep it together.
“He said that to you?” Not that I'm surprised. I'd expect a man like that to terrorize an innocent woman with the threat of selling her child. I'm just angry that she was spoken to like that. I can only imagine the way that made her feel.
Her head bobs up and down. “Is it wrong that I wish he was dead?”
“Absolutely not.” And now I very much wish I'd stuck around and blown that fucker's head off. He was going to sell my child. My heir. He would've trafficked my little bird, and then he would have held it over her head for months, making her dread the arrival of what was supposed to be a gift.
My blood pressure is nearly through the roof, and everything around me becomes hazy while my mind is flooded with rage and my body with adrenaline. Jack needs to die.
What am I doing, going to bed? I need to be working, finding him, making him pay.
Rational thoughts replace the rage. I need to be with Bianca just as much, if not more. I need her touch, her presence, to remind me that she's safe. Mine. She is what matters, her, and Tatum, and the baby. But will I ever have another opportunity like the one I had in that apartment basement? There's no way of knowing, but I can't let the need for revenge make me lose sight of the most important things.