Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Rocker gave me more than a little nudge at suggesting I tell her why there are rules in place for everyone’s safety. I was certain I did it adequately, but the woman still didn’t care. Her not abiding by the safety protocols puts others in danger, and I doubt Kincaid will allow much of that before she’s asked to leave.
My biggest fear is that she’s stubborn enough to do exactly that.
Maybe she’s looking for a way out, and I’ve just missed the clues.
I don’t follow her inside. Doing so might lead to me begging her to stay or offering her the freedom that she desires without concern for her safety. I’d never forgive myself if she got hurt, and this link to her, this bond that I never asked for, begins to eat at me. It makes me wonder if I shouldn’t have just walked away in Lindell. Maybe we did make the wrong decision to bring her here just so she could save a little face in her small hometown.
I grind my teeth as I turn to walk toward the garage. My selfishness did all of this. The fun I was having made me look past the danger her link to Cerberus could bring. If something happens to her, it’s all my fault.
But would I change it? If I could go back and retrace those steps, knowing this is what she’d be feeling after a couple of weeks, could I turn down her offer?
I don’t know that I could. I’m not saying I’m willing to let her get hurt to get the experiences I’ve had with her, but I don’t know that I could’ve been that strong in Lindell. It was impossible to ignore the pull she had on me, hell, that she still has on me.
I don’t know why I expected the garage to be empty. There’s always someone out here tinkering away on some project.
I dip my head in greeting to Newton who is sitting to the side with that new permanent scowl on his face. His right wrist is wrapped up, and I know he’s been benched from out-of-town trips until it heals. Kincaid is just as strict about safety with us as we are with our loved ones.
Loved ones.
That thought stops me in my tracks. Beth frustrates the hell out of me some days, but most of the time, I can’t wait to see her. That’s about sex, though, right?
Not love.
I’m not a guy who loves women.
“You look confused,” Hemlock says, his words more of a growl.
The man doesn’t speak very often, and I’m certain that’s why his voice sounds the way it does.
“Beer is in the fridge,” he continues, pointing toward the full-sized fridge up against the wall before directing the tip of his finger toward where Newton is sitting. “Chairs are over there. Make your pick and get out of the way.”
I’m in just a foul enough mood to punch the guy in the face, but that’s another one of Kincaid’s rules. Aggression and violence need to be saved for a mission, and he only wants us to use them when we can do so safely. Going off the rails will only get one of us in trouble. The enemy doesn’t care if we’re distracted. We’re working, but they’re fighting for their lives, and it would be stupid of us to give them an advantage.
I don’t wrap my hands around the man’s throat for more than one reason. Honestly, I’m terrified of the guy after watching what he did to that guy in Ecuador with the same look on his face he’d have if he were making a grilled cheese sandwich rather than torturing someone. Plus, it’s not fair for me to be upset with my wife and take that frustration out on anyone else.
So, I grab a beer from the fridge and take a seat right next to Newton, before twisting the top off and taking a long pull from the cold bottle.
I sigh, regretting it immediately, when it pulls Newton’s attention from across the room to the side of my face.
I have no doubt everyone knows what happened earlier. Rocker isn’t exactly the gossiping type, but there isn’t shit going on around here that people don’t whisper about. I never paid any mind to it until I met Beth, and it was her experiences in Texas that made me aware of how detrimental it can be to someone else.
“I have to drink this shit,” Newton says, holding up a silver can. “Instead of that.”
I frown when he points to the same brand of beer I have in my hand.
“I can’t even twist the top off of a fucking beer bottle.” He lifts the can to his lips and drains the thing.
“I can open a bottle for you, man,” I offer, but he throws a sort of snarl in my direction.