Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I stood up from my chair and walked over to the window, staring out at the harbor below. “Who?” Men like Valentino had a lot of enemies and a short life span. But I still wanted to know who had rid the world of Gabriel’s killer.
“No answers there. But I can keep digging if you want. I will say this though…” Braken cleared the distance between us and stood next to me, his hands in his pockets. “We know Storee is safe now. For sure. We always assumed she was, but now we know.”
“You know for a fact he acted alone? Wasn’t ordered to kill by anyone?”
“I’m sure,” Braken said. “Gabriel fucked him over. Valentino didn’t keep the kill secret.”
I closed my eyes, trying to quiet the storm of emotions inside me. The ache in my gut had turned into a searing pain, and the only thing that would quell it was Storee.
But just like my chance of seeking revenge, I had lost her too.
“Find out who did it,” I said, turning back to Braken. “I want to know who killed him.”
Braken nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll start asking around.”
I walked back to my desk, pouring myself another glass of scotch. The burn of the alcohol felt good, helping to numb the pain in my chest. I couldn’t stop thinking about Storee, about how much I had screwed things up with her.
“You want to talk about it?” Braken asked, sitting in the chair across from me, reaching for the scotch and pouring himself his own drink.
“About what?”
“Storee. It’s no secret something happened between the two of you. You’ve been sulking for a week, we haven’t seen her around you, and… dude, I know you. What happened?”
“I fucked up. I pushed her away when I should have held on tight.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Braken said quietly. “That sucks.”
“Yeah,” I replied, staring down at my glass. “It does. She found out about The Hunt. About me being the one that hunted her. She found the mask, confronted me, and I just stood there like a god damn idiot. I didn’t mean for her to find out like that, but she did. And now she’s gone.”
Braken studied me for a moment before he spoke. “Fix it.”
I shook my head and shrugged. “She deserves better anyway. I was stupid to think that there could ever be something between us.”
There was a long silence, the only sound the soft clinking of ice in our glasses as we took sips of scotch. I tried not to think about Storee, about how much I missed her, about how desperately I wanted to be outside her cottage watching her. Making sure that no one could hurt her.
But as hard as it was, I stayed away.
I was the motherfucker who hurt her.
“I’ll look into who killed Valentino,” Braken said, standing up from his chair. “I’ll also keep an eye on Storee if that helps.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at me with a small smile. “Although you’ve never been a man to give up. When you want something, you get it. If you want my advice—”
I looked up at him and made eye contact, silently warning him to shut up.
He didn’t listen. “I think you should dig deep and find that man again,” he said, always being the man to call me out on my shit. “Crawl back from that shame you cast on yourself and climb back to her.”
Chapter 32
Storee
Well, Locke and Fiora had been right about one thing.
I hated this job.
But as I gutted the salmon from this morning’s catch, I tried to power through. The smell of the fish was overwhelming, almost suffocating, but not as suffocating as Locke’s obvious hold over me was. With every slice of my blade, I focused on how I needed to figure out a way to break away.
But did I truly want that?
I tried to shake off those thoughts, but they lingered. I didn’t want to admit it, but there was a part of me that enjoyed being under his control. Under his watch.
Was it so awful that he was the man who had hunted me? Was it so awful that it had been him all along?
The feminist in me screamed yes. The strong-willed woman I prided myself to be demanded I never speak to the man again. The independent female who made up my very core was already coming up with an escape plan.
But then there was another part of me.
The part of me that longed to be with Locke Hartwell.
The part of me that wanted to rush back into his arms.
The fish had never smelled so repugnant before, but my thoughts were even more putrid. I knew it was irrational, but my attraction toward Locke was undeniable. My thoughts were consumed by Locke’s piercing gaze and his commanding presence. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help the way my body reacted to him. Even the mere thought of him made my skin crawl with anticipation.