Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“So you know there’s still darkness in this life. It’s better than it was when we were kids, but it’s still there.”
“I thought I was going to swing on you. When I heard… what I heard. I thought about punching you. What excuse could you have? That’s what I asked myself, but it’s not an excuse, is it? It’s the truth.”
I nod.
“I’ll need to speak with Bonnie.”
“And then what?”
“Decide,” he says, “if I want this to carry on. If Isla would have accepted it. If I want to work for you when I know parts of your business are dark. There’s a lot to think about.”
The beast almost emerges in me, a snarling fanged thing, urging me to grab him, shake him, and tell him with violent certainty that I’ll be taking his daughter no matter what.
I calm myself, calm the fire. This is my oldest friend, her father. He deserves respect.
“I understand,” I say. “Talk with her, and then tell me she doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t want it. I’m not sure what happened here. I’ve never believed in fate.”
“Me neither. Fate wouldn’t have led that monster to Isla.”
I sigh grimly. “I can’t apologize for what I did to that man. He deserved worse.”
“When I was with those guys, Enzo and his men, I was listening to them… the way they brag about the things they’ve done. They were talking about this woman, about the things… Anyway, I was thinking about Francesco.”
Blood-red violence flashes through my thoughts, the cold fact of the killing. There was no rage in me, not when I did it, not at the crucial moment. Just the ice-cold fact of what he’d done to Isla and what I was doing to him.
“He would’ve been out of prison by now, I bet,” Cameron says.
“It’s possible.”
“Good behavior. Good lawyers. I bet he would have.”
“He’s where he belongs now,” I say. “I’ll never regret what I did.”
“You’re right,” Cameron says, walking past me. “He is, and he deserved much, much worse.”
He walks toward the house, and Archie comes and sits by my feet, looking up at me.
“I never thought he’d say that,” I tell him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Bonnie
I pin the sketch of Archie to the noticeboard. It’s my fifth, one for every day since Dad knocked on the bedroom door, but I thought it was Blake.
“Come in…”
My voice was way too seductive. Or wannabe seductive, at least.
Then Dad’s voice cut through the mood. “We need to talk.”
I told him everything, how much Blake means to me. We are certain of our future, but Dad said he needed time to think it over.
We’re all staying on the estate. Blake and I are doing our best to keep away from each other. Dad hasn’t explicitly told us to stop, but we figured it would be the respectful thing to do. At least once a day, our resolve breaks. We find each other in a tsunami of lust, unable to stop ourselves.
Archie sighs from the rug, lying in a patch of sunlight. I’m still wearing my PJs, though it’s almost midday. Since we’re staying here, we don’t have to scramble for work or worry about my cruddy zero-hour contact at the restaurant. Zero hours are fine by me for now, but I’m getting restless.
My art is an outlet I wish I’d invested in more. I wish I’d remembered this love—painting and drawing with Mom. Each sketch of Archie brings something new, I hope, and Blake is always telling me I could be an artist.
“But what sort?”
“Any sort you wanted,” he replied, kissing my shoulder as we lay together in bed.
So maybe that’s the next step. Do some research and make my dream specific, just like it was in the world before. I never wanted to be a private detective, but it gave me a specific goal. A mission. Find the monster, but my man found him and made him pay.
Standing, I walk into the ensuite and take a shower. After changing, I return to the bedroom, Archie lying on the silk sheets and looking up at me.
“Want a walk around the grounds, boy?”
He smiles and leaps down.
Dad joins me for the walk, making me wonder if something is up. He looks healthier since being here, eating Blake’s food and wearing clean clothes. He walks with his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground, then smiling fleetingly over at me.
“It’s the real thing, isn’t it?”
“It’s the realest thing I’ve ever had,” I say. “I know it’s weird for you, Dad, but there’s something special between us. I love him.”
I haven’t told him that yet. How can I if he hasn’t said it? Doesn’t he love me?
“I’ve watched you two together, when we’re eating meals, or when we were watching the movie a couple of nights ago. You’re being respectful. You don’t want to offend me, but, oh, Bonnie…”