Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I look over to him, and his eyes are on the face of Braithe, and for the first time, I see something else in his eyes, I see pain.
It’s in this moment, right here, that I know Western didn’t do it.
I don’t know how.
I just feel it. I feel it to my very core.
“Why didn’t you fight?” I dare to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes move to mine. He doesn’t answer me.
“Why did you let them lock you away for so long?”
“What makes you think I’m innocent?”
His voice is low, clipped.
“Are you?” I ask, my question direct.
It takes a moment, a long moment, but, slowly, he nods.
As he does, it feels as though my heart is being ripped from my chest.
Knowing that he spent so long behind bars, his life stripped of him, all for something he didn’t do.
“Why didn’t you fight?” I ask again.
“Can’t fight against power.”
His answer leaves so much unsaid, yet it explains everything. The suspicion I’ve had all along—that there are people higher up behind this—becomes clear.
“What happened?” I push.
He doesn’t answer me.
He turns his eyes back to the face on the tank. I follow his gaze, and gently stretch a finger out, running it over Braithe’s perfect face. He was a great looking young man, and he had his whole life in front of him. Someone brutally ripped that from him, and my determination to find out who becomes so strong I find it hard to concentrate on anything else. There is a story here, a story so large, it would send this town into a spiral it couldn’t escape from.
“You could sell your art,” I go on, figuring he isn’t ready to tell me what happened, but grateful I got through to him at all.
Slowly pulling my hand away from the tank, I turn and find myself closer to him than I was anticipating. He has moved closer to me, and now, we’re face to face, my head tipped slightly back as I look up into his eyes. For a moment, oh, just a moment, the world stops. I can’t even hear my own breathing; my heart is thudding against my chest and all the air has been sucked from my lungs.
I feel something, something so strong I can’t deny it, as I stare up at him.
I don’t quite understand what that feeling is, a desperate need to make this better for him or full-blown lust that is burning out of control. Either way, as he looks down at me, I forget how to breathe. Without thought, or even warning, my fingers move on their own, and I find them going to the cross that hangs from his neck. Dragging my eyes from his, my breathing ragged, I hold the cross in my hand and look at it, really look at it.
It's almost a Celtic style, with beautiful, curved edges and patterns pressed into the metal. In the middle, the figure of Jesus can be seen, his arms outstretched, his head hung. It’s terrifying, and so incredibly beautiful. The perfect symbol for him.
“This is beautiful,” I say, running my finger over it.
His hand goes up to remove mine, but as he pulls my tiny fingers away, his thumb runs over my flesh, for a just a moment, in a gesture that nearly brings me to my knees. It’s gentle, and even though he puts my hand down, clearly stating it’s too close to him, that touch, as brief as it was, gave me the kind of feeling inside that I have never experienced with a man before.
“We should go.”
His voice is gruff as he turns, walking toward the door.
I’m so close, I can feel it, and yet getting through to him is going to be harder than anything I’ve ever had to do. It’s clear he doesn’t trust anyone, hell, probably not even himself. It’ll take a lot of work to get in, but get in, I will. Western has a story to tell, a story that’ll change everything for him, for this club, for the town. I just have to get him to tell me that story.
He has to trust me.
After tonight, I think I might just have a chance of getting him to.
Provided I don’t get too close.
I can’t feel what I just felt then.
Though that seems almost impossible.
Western has a strange hold on me.
A hold that scares me.
It isn’t enough to stop me, though.
No, I will get closure for this family.
If it’s the last thing I do.
“YOU WHAT?” LEO ASKS, his eyes wide, his fists clenched by his side in pure anger.
It’s rare I see Leo angry, but I knew that he wouldn’t take the news that I went to a biker club well. I’m always honest with him, though, and when he asked if I had seen Western again, I told him straight out that he had taken me back to the club. Fury washes over his perfect features, and I know it’ll take a lot to calm him down.