Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I haven’t spoken except for ordering today, and even the gravel in my tone from growling things in her ear, degrading her, makes me want to go back to the room and do it all over again.
I won’t waste the time or energy. She won’t be there. I know I hurt her last night. Her blood was under my fingernails when I washed my hands this morning.
I have no doubt she ran straight back to Cerberus despite declaring last night that she needed to get away from them. I have no doubt she meant it. Someone deranged enough to come on my dick while being treated the way she was last night doesn’t mix well with the likes of those at the clubhouse.
Lauren Vos isn’t love and light and healing.
She wouldn’t be caught dead talking about her feelings and sharing her traumas.
So maybe she won’t go back.
If she was as smart as she wants everyone to believe, she would’ve hitched a ride to the bus station and found the fastest route out of town.
I stab at my eggs, the force of my fork hitting the plate loud enough to make the elderly couple at the table across from my booth look over.
I remind myself to get my shit together, be unremarkable.
“It’s so good,” I say, the smile I manage feeling foreign on my face as I shovel more food into my mouth.
The woman grins, giving me a light nod in understanding. Her husband isn’t so easily convinced, but after another second, he turns his attention back to his own breakfast.
I don’t have a fucking clue why seeing Lauren Vos again is bothering me so damned much. I knew she was alive. I researched her after my escape from El Salvador. I knew she moved on to the next case as soon as she could. She wasn’t even an afterthought for me despite my hatred for the woman. I shoved down my thoughts of revenge the second I got back on American soil. Killing Lauren Vos, making her regret leaving me behind, didn’t give me the more I needed.
Revenge on her because I slipped and fucked up, thinking she needed my protection was my problem, not hers.
Letting her live was my penance.
Right now, I’m second-guessing myself. I fucking hate it.
Now I can’t even make it through the fried eggs and hash browns without her seeping into my fucking thoughts.
The waitress refills my coffee before skittering away just as quickly. I must be radiating with shitty energy.
Just one more thing I can attribute to Lauren.
I clean my plate as I was taught before sliding it back and draining my cup of coffee.
The gum comes next, the only thing that keeps me sane these days.
I bite into it, chewing slowly until it starts to taste like shit before letting it settle between my teeth and cheek.
There’s nothing about this that makes it better than an actual cigarette. I don’t even know why I decided to stop smoking in the first fucking place.
There isn’t a reason on earth to worry about health issues later on in life. I’ll never make it past forty.
Maybe I’m as much a glutton for punishment as Lauren is.
“Fuck,” I growl in irritation as she wedges her way back into my mind
I don’t bother looking over at the elderly couple because I can already feel their eyes back on me.
Instead, I focus on the last remaining piece of nicotine gum in the pack I’m holding. I’m going to have to hit the store before camping outside of Sylvie Davis’s house.
She’s back home, and of course Cerberus is also camped outside of her place. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a man inside with her. They’re not exactly known for keeping their distance when one of their flock is threatened.
The atmosphere changes as someone settles across from me in the booth.
I know it’s her before I have time to lift my eyes.
It doesn’t matter that I’m clear on the opposite side of town from where I rented the room last night. She found me.
The woman who should be running for the hills tracked me down. Her skills in that department aren’t surprising. I imagine she comes highly recommended as an agent.
What I did to her last night should be reason enough for her to keep her distance, or at least bring backup if she has intentions of arresting me.
I won’t go down without a fight. I’m more likely to die in prison than out in the free world working. I’d never go there willingly.
The cut on my neck itches when she lowers her eyes to it.
My cock swells at the sight of bruises I left on hers.
My fingers itch to trace the blues and purples, to make them bigger, to squeeze it again.
I stare at her, my eyes locked on hers.