Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
“You should’ve called me.”
“I couldn’t.”
Because a cowardly cunt-rag with a phone threatened our lives. Someone should tell that cunt that I’m the one to watch out for, the fangs in the shadows, the knife in the heart.
I’m coming for you, you dead motherfucking cunt.
“I hate feeling so helpless,” she murmurs. “I hate that someone out there has the power to send me into a panic attack. I used to be stronger than this.”
“There’s a limit to how many punches a person can withstand before they collapse. You’ve endured more hits than most people, and you’re still standing.”
“I’m quite horizontal at the moment.” She trails her toe along my calf. “Don’t think I can stand if I tried.”
“You’re not helpless. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“Tell me about your afternoon.” She rests a hand on my jaw, caressing my short beard. “The driving lessons and Tipsy Sailor. I want to hear everything.”
I give her the highlights from beginning to end, including all the ways I’m a better driver than Kody.
As I talk, her stress melts away under a tired smile. That smile lingers throughout my narration of the fawning women at the bar. She even laughs when I describe how Kody shut down Sirena.
But as I describe my favorite cars in Monty’s collection, exhaustion sets into her features, the fight in her eyes slowly losing to the pull of sleep.
Her eyelids flutter. Her breathing deepens. Despite her efforts, she succumbs to the rest her body desperately needs.
I want to step out and watch for Kody, but I won’t leave her alone.
“Sorry, love.” Carefully, I lift her in my arms, grab her phone, and carry her into the sitting room in the main cabin.
She startles awake for an evanescent moment before passing out again.
Her head rests against my chest as I settle onto the couch, holding her tightly, my heart clenching with vicious protectiveness.
Beyond the lapping of waves and occasional splash of jumping fish, the harbor is eerily quiet. Shadows play in the periphery, shifting with the yacht’s movement, keeping me on edge.
The silhouettes of the guards bleed into the dark backdrop. One stands at the bow, scanning the water. Another patrols the decks, his steps methodical and silent.
Even though I know they won’t protect us from Monty, I’m glad they’re here so I can focus on Frankie.
As I watch her sleep, my resolve hardens. Whoever is behind this, whatever their motives, they will not win.
They will not break us.
I brush her hair from her face, exposing her serene expression, soft in sleep. The turmoil she endured while I was in town makes me fuming mad. I’ll do anything to keep her safe, to shield her from the horrors that haunt her.
At last, the sound of advancing footsteps breaks the quiet. I recognize Kody’s gait, deliberately heavy so that I hear him.
She shifts in my arms but doesn’t wake as he enters the cabin. He stalks directly to her and drags his nose along her scalp, inhaling deeply, smelling her. Then those black eyes ensnare mine, probing, questioning, sensing something’s wrong.
Standing behind him, Monty watches our interaction, his expression unreadable.
I hold the air in my lungs as I carefully set her on the couch, trying not to wake her. But she stirs anyway, lifting her head.
“Kody.” Her cheeks rise with an unguarded smile of relief.
As I hand him her phone, I keep my attention on Monty’s reaction. His brow furrows deeply, confusion carving across his face.
We wait while Kody reads the messages, his features darkening. He returns the phone to her, his eyes churning with primal dominance.
The sight of his quiet rage calms me.
“What’s wrong?” Monty asks, his voice flat.
“She received threatening messages from an unknown number.” I hold Monty’s assertive gaze. “Let me see your phone.”
“No.” He gestures for her device. “Show me.”
I hold out a hand. “Your phone first.”
His eyes flash dangerously. No brotherly love there. Only shivery, insulted, self-righteous outrage. Then he blinks, and it clears away, replaced by rankled exhaustion.
“Monty.” She sits up, her voice husky. “When I asked you if you were hiding anything from me, do you remember what you said?”
“Yes.” He grits his teeth.
“What did you say?”
“If you ask, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I’m asking.” She nods at his pocket, where he keeps his phone. “This is how you earn my trust.”
After a tense moment, he sighs. “If I wanted to send you threatening messages, I would use an online service that allows texting with a fake sender ID. The same way cybercriminals change the sender ID to impersonate friends, family, and legitimate companies. If I were your unknown number, it wouldn’t show in my sent or deleted texts. The evidence wouldn’t appear on my phone at all because I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“Then you won’t mind me poking around,” I say.