Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“What happened?”
“Todd Bastik, the driver who killed my mom and dad, is up for parole, and Agent Michaels thinks he will get it.”
Fuck. I know all about Todd Bastik and his pathetic history. About the lives he ended. I read all about him in the file Feliks compiled for me when I was looking into Wilson and Brooke.
“Didn’t he get eighteen years in prison?”
“Yes, but apparently, that means very little when you’ve been a model prisoner.” Her eyebrows are drawn in, and I can see the pain in her eyes. “And before you offer, no, I don’t want him dead. I want him to live out the rest of his sorry life in prison.”
I can’t help but smile. My little hell bunny. She knows I would have him taken care of in prison with one word.
She lifts her lashes and hits me with her big brown eyes. “Can you do anything to keep him in prison?”
While ensuring Todd’s demise in prison would be as easy as a phone call, attempting to sway a parole board is something else altogether. It would require weeks of compiling information on people to use against them. Using someone’s darkest secret against them so they will do your bidding is most effective in these kinds of situations. But that takes time, and we don’t have it.
Although, it doesn’t mean I can’t have someone look into it for her.
“I can’t promise anything on short notice, zayka, but I will do what I can.” I run my hands down her arms. “Killing him would be easier.”
“Yes, for him. His miserable life would be over, and I don’t want the easy way out for him. I want him to live the rest of his sorry life out in prison where he isn’t able to hurt anyone else.”
I nod, but I’m preoccupied because I know the news of Todd Bastik’s release isn’t the only upsetting news she’s going to receive. Because I’m about to deliver some more.
And she picks up on it. “What’s wrong?”
I’m all for getting straight to the point in moments like these, so I rip off the Band-Aid quickly.
“Wilson is dead.”
For a moment, she doesn’t move. She just stands there, her big brown eyes wide with surprise as my words settle over her.
Then her shoulders drop, and her eyes narrow. “How?”
Going by the look on her face she thinks it was me.
“I didn’t do it.”
“Then how did he die?”
There is a sharpness in her tone.
She doesn’t trust me.
After everything we’ve been through, she still doesn’t trust me.
“He was found in his hotel room. They suspect a drug overdose. They won’t know until the autopsy and toxicology confirm it.”
She blows out a deep breath and walks slowly to the bed and sits down on the edge. “What about the flash drive?”
“One of our associates on the west coast has already secured the flash drive.”
Her eyes dart to mine. “When?”
“When it was clear Wilson wasn’t come back with it. I put things in place to retrieve it from the safety deposit box.”
It wasn’t easy. And it cost me a lot of money. But the flash drive is gone. I personally saw to it myself.
Brooke nods, but she’s preoccupied by her thoughts.
“I didn’t do this,” I reaffirm. Back when she agreed to pretend to be my fiancée, I vowed that I wouldn’t hurt him. And now, more than ever, I need her to know I wouldn’t break my word to her.
But the way she looks at me tells me she is wary, and damn that stings.
“Did you still have eyes on Wilson in Ibiza?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Do they know what happened?”
“Only that he and a couple of young women retired to his villa for the night. The next day, one of the women called for an ambulance, but it was too late.”
She nods, clearly speechless. She did all of this for him. Ended up here, for him. And now he’s dead.
I cross the room and crouch in front of her so we’re at eye level. “Are you okay?”
She scoffs and shakes her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“I know it’s a shock.”
She bites her lip. “What’s wrong with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I should probably be crying, right?”
“People process grief in different ways.”
“But that’s it. I don’t feel any grief.”
“You don’t feel sad about it?”
She shakes her head. “No, Wilson lost my empathy the moment he left me to the wolves. That’s you, by the way. You’re the big mean hairy wolf.”
I smile, but I know her humor is masking the enormity of what has happened. I take her hand and gently run my thumb over the soft skin. “I’m going to run you a bath. Let me take care of you tonight.”
She nods, and I press a kiss into her lips before I lead her into the bathroom and run her a bath. While she soaks in the warm, bubbly water that smells like sandalwood and rainforest, I order dinner for us both to be brought to the room, then strip off my clothes and join her in the giant tub.