Never Look Back (Redemption Hills #3) Read Online A.L. Jackson

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Redemption Hills Series by A.L. Jackson
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 142783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
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My fingers sank deeper into her side. “He never should have sat at that table if he wasn’t willing to see it through.”

“And you’re an asshole for thinking me a plaything to be divvied and shared.” That old ferocity flared in her gaze. The part of her I’d loved most. She’d been sweet and kind and so fucking strong and brave that I’d thought together we could conquer the world.

But it turned out that person hadn’t really existed. She’d succumbed. Let them control her the way they always had. Chose that life over the one I’d offered.

I wondered if she had the first clue how deeply it’d destroyed me.

My hand found the soft curve of her neck before it slipped around to the front of her throat. I squeezed just hard enough to force her to meet my gaze, and my voice dropped to the low cut of a threat. “And if you were mine, I would never share you.”

Agony lashed through her expression, and her tongue swept out to wet her dry lips before she pushed out the words, “But I’m not, am I? No matter what a bet says.”

Her eyes rushed all over my face, taking every intonation in, like I was to blame for that.

I swallowed around the shards of glass that had gathered in my throat. “Is that what you want, Aster? You want me to let you go?”

“Yes.” I wondered if she knew it sounded like a lie.

She’d stood up to him and not a half an hour later, she was succumbing again.

“When are you supposed to leave?”

Her lids pressed closed like she didn’t want to look at me when she answered. “At nine tomorrow morning.”

My chuckle was cruel as I let it spread over her face. That’s what living without her had been.

Cruel.

I stepped back, and a tiny sound whimpered from her lips.

I cocked my head. “Fine, Aster. Be ready at seven. I’ll pick you up and take you there. Just know Jarek’s debt just became greater than he can pay.”

FOUR

ASTER

At seven a.m., I’d already been pacing the lobby floor for half an hour.

It wasn’t as if I’d gotten any sleep.

I’d tossed in the shadows of the hotel room, the hours ticking by as the howl of winter had raked at the windows and sent shapes crawling over the walls.

I’d been pinned to the bed by shackles of fear and bonds of regret.

Grief and loss so thick I’d drifted on it, three inches below the surface, where reality was a blur of indistinguishable colors and dark waters churned in my soul.

A millennium of demons, and a lifetime of ghosts.

Phantoms that had held on through the years, refusing to let me free of their oppressive weight.

I’d carried them for so long, my spirit drawn toward a destiny that could never be mine, I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised that one day Logan and I would end up here.

Should never have been shocked that our paths would collide.

Least surprising was that seeing him again had hurt almost as badly as the day I had to watch him walk away.

The day I’d told the greatest lie. One that had cracked me apart, cleaved me into a thousand pieces, half of them belonging to the man and the other to what had been forever lost.

I turned and paced the other direction, ignoring the stares I got considering I still wore that slinky black dress, my hair disheveled, my eyes wild.

It made my heart ache that most days the assumptions they were making right then didn’t feel that far off.

But I couldn’t allow that to cause me concern.

Under Logan’s pain and venom last night, beneath the wrath that blazed in his eyes, the menacing recklessness that promised he would do anything to see it through, I’d come to the swift, heartbreaking conclusion that I had to return to Jarek.

My taking off last night had only landed Logan and me in a bed we couldn’t sleep in.

A trouble he wouldn’t survive, and that was an outcome I wouldn’t survive, either.

My only option was getting to the airport so I could climb back onto that private jet we’d arrived on yesterday and pray we could pretend none of this happened. Pray Jarek wouldn’t rage and hunger for revenge.

Pray Logan wouldn’t be so foolish to set out to do what he’d promised was his intention last night.

To destroy Jarek.

Sorrow spread over me like an oil slick when I thought of the gunshot that I’d heard when I’d been fleeing. How it’d been Logan I’d been concerned for and not Jarek. How I’d had to press that lie from my mouth when Logan had demanded to know how I’d feel if Jarek were gone.

I guessed I’d become the perfector of lies, though I had to remember that sometimes a lie was a gesture of compassion.


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