Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I shake my head and nod to my trainer, signalling for a break.
“That’s enough for today, Buzz; you’ll fucking kill me if I have to block your hits any longer,” the trainer replies as he removes his pads.
“Thanks—see you tomorrow,” I pant. Poor bastard. I’ve been kicking his ass all week.
“See you.” He walks away.
I pick up my water bottle and drink.
“Where have you been?” Thomo asks. “You send us that fucking text and then you go offline for ten days.”
“I just got back last night,” I lie. The truth is that I wasn’t in the mood for any company.
I take a seat on a weight bench as I try to catch my breath.
“What happened?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Hey, I got a visit in Australia from two agents saying I had one last job to do in Prague.”
He frowns as he listens.
“So, I went, but unbeknownst to me, it wasn’t a scheduled job.” I’m still struggling to catch my breath as I speak. “They were working alone and had tampered with the hired car. They wanted me dead after I did their instructed hit.”
He frowns as he goes over what I’ve just told him. “Does head office know this?”
I nod. “They’re trying to track them, but they haven’t been seen since. I’ve no fucking idea what’s going on or who hired the hit.”
“Fucking hell.” He bites his thumbnail as he thinks. “We need to get the guys together.”
I drain my water bottle and nod. “Yeah.”
“I fly out tonight for a wedding tomorrow but I’m back on Sunday. Let’s meet at Jack’s Bar at five.”
I nod and glance at my watch. “Yeah, okay. See you then.”
He starts his training session and I shower. I’m walking to my car when my phone rings. It’s Brock.
“Hey.” I smile. I’ve missed this stupid fuck.
“Hey, mate. You called? Sorry I couldn’t answer, I had a mouth full of muff.”
I chuckle as I get a vision of him going down on some chick. “Yeah, that’s way too much information.” I wince.
He laughs. “Tasted too good to answer the phone, that’s for sure.”
I laugh. Fucking hell. “Can you do me a favour?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“My car is in the long stay parking at Sydney Airport. Can you get someone to go and get it?”
“Ah, okay.” He thinks for a moment. “Do you just want it back at your place?”
I frown as I think. “Um—”
“When are you coming home?” he interrupts.
“I’m not,” I reply as I walk through the parking lot and hold the keys up, unlocking my car as it comes into view.
He stays silent for a moment. “Bridget’s struggling, mate.”
I stop, mid-step.
“She hasn’t left the house. She’s over there, crying and shit. The girls are all fussing over her and trying to fix her.”
I stare at the concrete under my feet and clench my jaw.
I should never have gone back for her. I stay silent as I listen.
“Did you hear me? She’s fucking devo over here. What are you going to do about it?” he growls, annoyed.
“Tell her to go back to Eric,” I reply flatly. “He’s the kind of man she needs.”
“What?” he snaps. “Are you fucking for real? You’re just giving up on her? You’re going to walk away just like that?”
I roll my eyes as my anger starts to throb. Does he think I want this?
“She left me. She gave up on me,” I sneer.
“She loves you—”
“Not enough,” I cut him off. “I’ve got to go. Sort the car and bill me.”
“You’re fucked,” he snaps.
I shake my head in disgust and end the call before I say something I’ll regret.
I’m fucked? I’m fucked? My blood boils. He’s got no fucking idea. I would have done anything for her.
I can’t change my past…
If I could, I would.
In a heartbeat, I would do anything to hold her.
I open my car door and throw my bag into the back seat with force. I sit in the car and grip the steering wheel as I imagine my beautiful Bridget crying with a broken heart because of me. I close my eyes as the pain takes over.
He’s right.
I am fucked.
The ugly taste of guilt begins to seep into my bloodstream like poison. I can physically taste it.
I turn the car on and fly out of the parking lot, heading onto the highway at speed.
Maybe if I drive fast enough I can escape this feeling.
If only.
14
Bridget
It’s just gone 7:00 p.m. on a Tuesday, and I lie on the lounge and stare at the news on the television
They’re talking, but I’m not listening. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve heard a sound other than Ben’s voice since I left him ten days ago in Prague.
I love you…
I need you…
I kill people.
Everything seems like a hazy blur, and even though I’ve been through this before with Ben this time it’s worse.