Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
My heart launches up into my chest.
I only just left Boston’s house.
I need to call him. To warn him.
I pull out my phone. “This better not be a trick, Yolanda.”
“It isn’t,” she says, glancing around nervously. “But I do have to go. I can’t be here. He’ll figure out I’ve left soon, and I can’t risk the wrath that’ll come my way if I’m not far gone.”
She steps past me and I meet her eyes.
“Tell Saskia...” she hesitates, “tell her I’m sorry. For not being the sister I should have been.”
With that, she disappears.
I watch her go, and then dial Boston’s number. I don’t know if she’s making this up, and it’s some sort of trap to get me right where they want me, but I can’t take the risk. I have to know he’s okay.
His phone rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer.
My heart pounds and I turn, rushing back to my car.
I get in and the entire drive to his house, I call and call.
No answer.
When I arrive, his front door is wide open. I instantly feel sick. I don’t know what it is about that sight, but I know even before I get out of the car, that he’s not here. And I’m right. After running through his house, I see his drink and phone exactly where he left them. But he isn’t here. God dammit. If I didn’t leave...If I had just stayed...I curse and pull out my phone, gearing up to call Malakai, when mine rings in my hand.
Unknown number.
My stomach twists and I answer it, already knowing who it’ll be before the voice comes through the line.
“Hello Chantelle, finally, we get to speak. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
Enzo.
“What have you done with him?” I hiss.
He laughs, low and gravelly. Not the man I once knew, definitely not.
“I haven’t done anything with him...yet. But I will. To prove a point to you, and to that club, that I won’t lay down and take what they’ve dished out. If you don’t want to start a war, all you have to do is get me the money I want, and I’ll disappear.”
Seems too easy.
But right now, what choice do I have?
“How much do you want?” I whisper, my hands shaking.
“Fifty thousand.”
I swallow.
I don’t have that much money.
But...my family does.
I clench my eyes shut. “How do I know you’re not going to kill him before I even hand that cash over?”
“He’s alive and well. Aren’t you, Boston?”
A pained growl passes through the phone, and I know it’s Boston. I’d know that sound anywhere.
“I swear, if you hurt him...”
“You’ll do what, exactly?” Enzo laughs. “Both you and I know, I’ve got you on a rope. If you don’t come, I’ll kill Boston and you’ll never be able to live with that. If you tell the club, I’ll kill Boston and you’ll have to live with his death, and a war that’ll be started because of it. So, the way I see it, you only have one choice here, Chantelle. Bring me the money, and you can have your precious Boston back.”
Dammit.
God dammit.
“How long do I have?” I whisper, my voice defeated.
“Twelve hours.”
“And where do I bring it?”
He gives me an address, and I write it down on my phone.
“I’m serious when I say don’t bring the club, and don’t tell a single soul. If you want this man to live, you’ll do exactly as I’m asking.”
His voice is full of warning.
And, I believe him.
He’s lost his mind.
He will hurt Boston. I will not let that happen.
“Are we clear?” he growls.
“I hear you,” I respond, my voice low.
“Twelve hours, Chantelle. Get moving.”
I hang up the phone and stare down at my trembling fingers.
Twelve hours.
There is only one person who will be able to give me that kind of cash in twelve hours, and he’s the absolute last person I want to go to. Because I know if I do, there will be something I have to give in return. And it will be something I don’t like.
But, if I want to save Boston, I have to go to the man I can’t stand.
My father.
~*~*~*~
NOW – CHANTELLE
I stand outside the massive company my family runs. The building is tall, huge, and I usually try to avoid it where possible. I haven’t been here for years, I haven’t seen my father, or my other family members, for an equal amount of time. I haven’t wanted to. I didn’t follow their footprints, and so I no longer mean anything to them.
Cold, heartless bastards that they are.
It’s taking everything I have, to walk through these front doors. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I love Boston, and I have his baby growing inside me, then I wouldn’t be here at all. I’d do anything to avoid this. Anything I could. But I can’t. I have to, because they’re the only people in the world who can give me what I need, in the time that I need it.