Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
If I did it his way, it would be like sinking a knife into him every time I responded. He wanted the raw, ugly truth. He wanted me to force him to face the facts.
Facts that would do nothing but rip him to pieces.
“Yes,” I said. “Despite her attempts to appear mentally incompetent, several irregularities stood out that proved otherwise.”
“Any thoughts as to why she would have behaved in such a manner?”
“Cass—”
“Answer the question, JJ,” Cass interjected.
“She likely wanted to manipulate her grandson in some way.”
“Is it your belief that when her grandson was arrested and charged with three murders and the attempted murder of a police officer, she was mentally competent to come to his aid, if not financially, then at least in the form of emotional support?”
I swallowed hard. That was the question he’d really taken me to the Ashby estate to answer. He already knew the answer, but he couldn’t say it out loud. His mind couldn’t process that kind of betrayal. Not from his mother. He might have compartmentalized the possibility of it after his first visit, but his breakdown just after the second visit was proof that the truth wanted out of that box. Cass just wanted to hear the words so he could shove them back inside the box and lock it away with all the others.
“Cass,” I said gently as I reached for his hand. He jerked it back.
“The question—”
“Enough!” I shouted.
“JJ, open this fucking door right now!” I heard Sully yell. I knew my brother would kick down the door, but I needed him to stay out of this.
For my sake.
And especially for Cass’s sake.
During Sully’s outburst, Cass had stood up and walked to the line of windows that overlooked the lower level of the renovated warehouse. I ignored the scuffle outside and went to him.
I knew what he would do when I grabbed him, but I was ready for it. The second my fingers wrapped around his lower arm, Cass grabbed my wrist to dislodge my hold so he could escape me yet again.
This time, I wasn’t letting go. I knew Cass could easily snap the bones in my wrist like they were nothing more than twigs beneath his boot, but I also knew something else. The first time it had happened had been the day I’d initially confronted him after his release. I’d had my gun pointed at his chest, but he hadn’t stopped coming for me until that gun had been pressed against his chest. When he’d easily taken it from me, he’d disabled the weapon and thrown it aside instead of pointing it at me. The same thing had happened in the cabin when I’d discovered the elaborate web of lies he and Sully had built to prove Cass would never hurt me. Their gamble had been right because when I’d held a gun on him for the second time, he’d ignored my warnings to stay where he was. He’d only stopped when I’d pointed the weapon at my own head.
What I was about to do was my own version of that same gamble. I just hoped like hell it worked. Not for me, but for Cass.
“I’m not letting go, Cass. I may not be strong enough to hold on to you at this very second, but I’m going to keep coming after you. I’m not ever letting you go. You’ll have to break something to get me to stop and even then, I won’t. So go for it,” I bit out as I tightened my hold on his wrist.
“Let go, JJ,” Cass warned, his voice icy cold.
Lethal.
“Never,” I said simply.
Cass was strong enough to physically pull my fingers from his arm, but the second he did, I grabbed him with my other hand.
“Let go,” Cass repeated. His voice held no emotion, but his eyes were dark and stormy.
“Never,” I repeated. I still had a piece of Cass with me but if I gave in for even a second, he’d become the man he’d been the day before. He’d be back in the prison cell that still existed in his mind, only this time he wouldn’t have a reason to ever leave it.
“Goddamn it, JJ!” Cass snarled. He ripped free of my hold but did it in a way that, like the first time, probably hurt him more than me. My fingers were going to leave bruises on his skin with how hard I was holding on to him, but I was sure I’d have few, if any, marks on me when all was said and done.
I heard banging and shouting on the other side of the door but ignored it. I was just hoping whoever had prevented my brother from kicking the damn thing down the first time was able to hold him off a little longer.
Cass and I continued the chaotic dance of him forcing one hand off his body only to have the other clamp down on a different part. Every muscle in his body was tight with fury. A mental image of him sitting on the floor of his prison cell popped into my head. In that moment, I could actually see him using every mental trick or tool that he’d learned in the military and during his cold, loveless childhood to remain in control of his body, his sanity.