Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“I agree, but working with him is not going to be an option.”
Daniel’s eyes flared with a nasty gleam. “What did he want in return.”
“Nothing I was willing to give him.”
“Fucking bastard—” Daniel walked off, relying on his cane, moving around in a circle. “I shouldn’t have sent you up there—”
“We had to try and we did. Now we move on to the next thing.”
She focused on that cane, and didn’t want to ask him why he was suddenly using it again. But maybe he’d helped with their hostess’s medical emergency.
Switching gears, she said, “I do have an idea. Are you strong enough to—”
“Yes.” He squared off at her. “Whatever it is, the answer is yes.”
* * *
No more than five minutes later, Daniel was back in the SUV, but considering he was sitting properly in the front passenger seat, instead of slumped like a drunk in the back, negotiating with his ability to stay conscious?
It proved the whole night wasn’t going to shit—even if that was the overwhelming trend.
He should have known what the outcome would be of telling Lydia to go see his old boss—but he’d been desperate, and desperate people did stupid things as they argued with reality.
And he could well guess what the sonofabitch had wanted in return.
As Lydia drove them off from the Phalen estate, night had come solidly, the darkness consuming the rural landscape. Courtesy of Walters being nothing but a little mill town, there were no other cars on the road, and the few houses that dotted the shoulder were set so far back that their lights seemed as distant as the stars overhead.
Glancing over at Lydia, he studied her face in the glow of the instrument panel. Her brows were down low and her lips were a tight line of intention—and goddamn, she was beautiful. Then again, she was always that way to him, no matter her mood, no matter the circumstance—which was a consequence of loving someone deeply, wasn’t it.
As his eyes drifted across her upper body, he thought of his dream.
“What are you looking at?” she murmured.
“Now isn’t the time.” He shifted in his seat and went back to looking out the window. “Where are we going, by the way?”
He hadn’t asked when they’d left. He’d just been determined not to sit on the sidelines of chaos for one fucking moment longer. And now, as she answered him, he found himself less interested in the words she was speaking, and more into how much he liked the way her mouth moved as she enunciated the syllables—
“You’re staring again.” She glanced away from the headlight-lit road. “Penny for your thoughts?”
Letting his head fall back on the rest, he muttered, “Knock knock.”
Lydia laughed in a short burst. “Who’s there?”
“Warrior.”
“Warrior who?”
“War’ya been all my life?” As she grinned like the joke had been any good at all, he shook his head. “I’m still not funny, and yet you giggle.”
“Ah, but you’re funny enough for me.” She hit the turn signal, then slowed them down. “And you know what I like about you?”
“Just one thing? I gotta do better.”
Lydia laughed some more. “See? You do have a sense of humor.”
“And you’re biased.”
“Completely biased.” Easing them off the county road and onto a long driveway, she glanced at him and got serious. “I like that you didn’t even ask where we’re going. You just jumped in right beside me.”
“Well, for one, your idea has to be better than mine,” he muttered. He was never going to forgive himself for sending her on that fucking goose chase. “And as long as we’re together? I’m good. I’m sooooo good.”
“Me, too.”
They leaned in over the center console at the same time, their lips meeting briefly, and as he closed his eyes, he cursed the destiny or fate—or whatever the hell it was—that doled out the good and the bad. Surely there had been a mistake when it came to the pair of them.
Too much on the—
Reopening his lids, a farmhouse was in view, and when he recognized its modest lines, what she’d told him decoded, the reply finally resonating, her idea crystallizing for him.
“Eastwind,” he said.
“He’s more than a sheriff. He just pretends… he’s normal.”
Daniel nodded, even though he wasn’t sure what she meant—or whether this was such a great idea. One thing that was clear? The guy could keep up a property. Everything from the black shutters to the white siding and the wraparound porch was freshly painted, and the yard was free of downed branches and dead bushes, the detached garage a satellite that was similarly spick-and-span’d. Likewise, the barn and the fenced-in meadow in the back were ready for animals to graze, although there didn’t seem to be any around.
Lydia brought them to a halt and put the Suburban in park. “Do you want to come in with me?”