Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
“I’m going to keep watch until Kenny, and his men arrive.”
“What about your shoulder? What about sleep?”
“I’ll bandage my arm with a gun at my side while I make sure this safe house really is safe.”
He leaves before I can say anything else, leaving me to study the broadness of his back, my hands clenching as I imagine going after him and clawing on.
Sleep with me tonight….
“Come on,” Mom touches my arm. “I won’t pretend this is regular, in any sense of the word, but we still need sleep.”
“You trust him?” Julie mutters, glancing at the door.
“You don’t?” I say, a tone far snappier than I intended. “He saved our lives. Those men would’ve killed us all.”
“I know,” Julie says, “but he’s still a stranger.”
“What about Mike? Felix isn’t here now. What did you mean earlier, during your call?”
She stares at me for a few moments, then shakes her head slowly.
Mom stands off to the side as though preparing herself to play the referee.
Julie and I rarely argue. The few times we had were during high school and once a few months ago when Julie’s mood had gotten even worse, and I was trying to persuade her to seek help.
“What does that mean?” I snap, unable to stop myself. “It’s just us. You can explain. Mike doesn’t have anything to do with…with this, does he?”
Julie erupts into a sob and then takes off for the closest door, slamming it behind her. I surge forward, meaning to start hammering my hand against it.
I understand she’s going through a tough time. I get that I shouldn’t press her.
But is this really fair? To call me up the night somebody tries to kill me, almost warning me of it, and then shutting down and refusing to talk?
Mom touches my arm as she slides between me and the door.
“I think sleep first, Freya. You’re both exhausted. You’re not thinking straight. How are you going to have a productive conversation?”
“But she clearly knows something.”
I let out a long breath, so much clashing in my mind that it’s difficult to keep it all straight.
“Maybe,” Mom says, lowering her voice. “Or maybe she’s dealing with a lot anyway, and almost being murdered has made it worse. Freya this is all extremely bizarre, but I saw those police officers. I heard their gunshots. Whoever Felix is, clearly, he’s safer than the alternative.”
It’s not as though her words are a bright, enthusiastic endorsement, but they still make me smile.
“See?” Mom smiles in response. “It’s not so bad, is it?”
I don’t know if it’s bad since Julie won’t speak to me, but mom’s right. Getting into an argument won’t solve anything.
Part of me wants to make Julie tell me. Maybe I would charge in there if mom wasn’t here. But it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
If Julie isn’t ready to tell me, I doubt a bunch of yelling is going to change anything.
As I lie down on the clean, simple bed, my thoughts return to the kiss, to the moments leading up to it, time slowing as he leaned down.
I remember vividly, with skin-tingling sensations, how it felt when our tongues clashed.
Sleep finally starts to take me, and then it’s like I’m floating out of my body.
I soar through the night until it becomes day, and then I hover in the sky, looking down at a luscious green backyard and Felix standing in the middle, a child in his arms and two more running around his feet.
In the dream, I smile.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Felix
I sit in the security room, my bandaged shoulder throbbing, as my gaze flits over the night-vision cameras. They’re positioned all around the property and the surrounding area, hidden in discreet locations, meaning I’ll know if some bastard tries to sneak up on us or hurt my woman, her friend, or her mom.
Julie knows something. That much is clear.
If she doesn’t, then she’s the most suspicious innocent person I’ve ever met.
But just because she knows something doesn’t mean she’s guilty. It just means she has information she’s not sharing.
I find myself looking at the security camera of the basement. The stairs lead down to a simple, large hallway with rooms branching off to the side. All the doors are closed – and there are no cameras in the rooms – but the hunger within stirs animalistically when I think about Freya.
She’s lying behind that door, in bed. Maybe her gorgeous body is flecked with sweat from all the stress of the situation.
I find myself struggling to stay where I am.
It’s been three hours since she went to bed, enough time for me to bandage up and grab some water. Sleep is niggling at me, despite the situation, though I know from experience I could go another day if I had to.
But I wouldn’t be at my best.
I need to be sharp to protect my woman.