Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Instead of dipping his head and walking away, he takes a step closer to me, causing my heart to pound in my chest.
"I'm unlovable," he says, his voice but a whisper on the wind, so soft I can almost convince myself that he didn't speak at all. "You'll only get hurt, and I'm not worth it."
I drop my eyes to my hands as I try to make knots out of my fingers because looking at his handsome face is just too painful to bear.
I suck in a ragged breath when I feel the warmth of his hand on my face, urging me to look up at him. Tears continue to fall, and maybe this goodbye is exactly what I need. It's closure for me, yet I still feel angry about needing it in the first place. He wasn't supposed to be something I had to get over. My time with him was supposed to be fun, nothing but orgasms and good feelings. It wasn't supposed to end in heartbreak.
When he leans in, his intent clear, another battle waging my mind, but it's the sane side of me that wins out this time, and later on down the road, I'll be able to look at it as a victory rather than the loss it feels like right now.
"You've got to be kidding me," I growl, pulling my head to the side to free it from his touch.
The man was planning to kiss me, something he never did before no matter how passionate our time together had gotten. It feels like a consolation prize, and the sheer ego of this man to think he can take that from me now.
"Goodbye," I snap, taking a step back and slamming the door.
I lock it, but honestly, I know it wouldn't stop him from getting inside like he has done in the past.
My tears turn to sobs as my body slowly drifts toward the sofa. I'll get over him. I know I will. I just worry that it may not be in this lifetime or the next.
Chapter 31
Hemlock
The itch to hurt, maim, and kill sticks to me like tar on my way back to the house.
I convinced myself that the entire reason I drove right to her house the second those handcuffs were off was to tell her that Tommy was in police custody, arrested for running a prostitution ring, but those words didn't even make it past my lips.
The sight of the U-Haul threw me for a loop, and I was reeling when I finally stepped onto her porch.
I wanted to beg her to stay, to let me protect her as best as I could manage, but I knew I couldn't promise her safety. I couldn't be with her every single second of every day, and that's what it would take to safeguard her against anything in life that may cause her harm.
Jericho wasn't at the raid tonight because, like me, he needs to stay undercover, but the sight of his bike in the driveway when I pull up means he'll be inside, right along with that fucker Jersey.
I didn't ask questions about the man, but he climbed out of that cop car and strode toward the house like he owned the motherfucker, making my irritation grow with being out of the fucking loop.
I kick the stand out on my bike, considering just leaving, getting away for a few days, but I know the longer I go without an assignment, the worse it's going to be for anyone that gets near me.
I need something to focus on other than the woman with the U-Haul who will no doubt be gone by morning.
Laughter comes from the kitchen when I step inside but bypassing the area and going straight up to my room without at least showing my face seems like a weakness, so I arrow in that direction.
Jericho has a smile on his scarred face, and it grows wider when he watches me step into the room.
I eye Jersey who is leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in his hand.
He no longer looks like the forlorn soon-to-be-divorced man he was in the bar. It's clear he's showered and shaved. His clothes are different, having traded his simple button-down and slacks for a retro band tee and jeans, and his loafers for heavy-soled boots.
"Roman Parker," he says with his right hand out as he steps closer to me. "But I go by Jersey."
I look down at the man's hand before glancing over my shoulder at Jericho. "Did you know about this?"
Jericho shakes his head, and Jersey takes a step back, placing his ass back against the counter where he was when I first walked into the room, seeming unaffected by the fact that I won't shake his hand.
"Seems there's been a little crossover between teams," Jersey continues as I make my way to the fridge.