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)
I slid into the seat behind the wheel. JJ was slumped against the passenger door, his hands covered in God only knew what kind of shit. Vomit was sticking to his shirt, pants, and shoes. It was an all too familiar scene.
This time, though, I knew taking him home and trying to stay out of his life while I attempted to figure out who’d tried to kill him wasn’t an option. I couldn’t do this alone. I needed help and I needed a plan because one way or another, I was going to tell JJ the truth.
About everything.
I was going to rip the fucking knot of lies apart even if I had to do it string by string.
I got the car started and grabbed JJ’s phone since I’d left mine back at the motel. I dialed and put the phone to my ear before reaching out to link my fingers with JJ’s limp ones. Tears stung my eyes as I took in the sight of him.
“JJ?” Sully asked worriedly on the first ring.
“No, Sully, it’s me,” I said, my voice cracking just a bit. I forced myself to release JJ’s hand so I could focus on what needed to happen next.
“Where are you?” I asked Sully. As he responded and then began lobbing one question after another at me, I wiped my forearm across my eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve got him with me. He’s safe,” I said as I glanced at JJ. “We need to talk,” I cut in as Sully demanded to talk to JJ. I threw the Mustang’s gearshift into drive and glanced over my shoulder before pulling the car into traffic. I ignored Sully’s order to put JJ on the phone and spoke the handful of words that I’d promised myself I’d never say again from the moment I’d been charged with murder and not even one single person who’d known the real me had stood up to defend me.
“I need your help.”
CHAPTER 10
Jj
It had to be a terrible dream because there was no way it was happening all over again.
Me.
In a bed.
A bed that wasn’t mine.
And a killer headache.
Only this time it was a different kind of headache. One I’d brought upon myself. Thankfully, there was no Cass in this version of the dream. I opened my eyes to clear the dream from my mind only to find that my eyes were already open. I was staring at the ceiling, but it wasn’t a normal ceiling. It had several heavy-duty wood beams running from one end of the room to the other. Above the beams were what looked like polished logs lying side by side.
“Shit,” I said as I abruptly sat up. My head spun and my stomach churned as bile crept up the back of my throat. I managed to swallow it back down and remained very still until the nausea eased a bit. I used the time to slowly look around the room.
The room was rustic but not the charming kind of rustic that people paid good money for so they could pretend to be getting off the grid for a while but not really.
Here, rustic meant rustic.
There were few furnishings besides the bed I was sitting on. A simple table next to the bed, a small dresser that looked like it had stepped out of the seventies, and a couple of mismatched chairs in front of a small iron stove with a stack of wood next to it. No TV, no radio, no curtains. There were two doorways in the room but neither had actual doors on them.
“What the hell?” I murmured.
Where was my gun? My phone? The table that passed for a nightstand was bare except for a tall bottle of water and two aspirin. On the floor next to the bed was a trash can, but based on its placement I figured it was substituting as a vomit can.
My vomit can.
As I reached for the water and greedily swallowed it down, I tried to remember what had happened before everything had gone dark.
I’d been with Cass. He’d been kissing me deeply, slowly, his tongue gently stroking mine. He’d been holding me against the wall, and I’d been a willing prisoner as he’d shown me what a real kiss felt like.
I’d wanted, no, I’d needed more. I hadn’t cared about the past or the future. I hadn’t been afraid. I hadn’t wanted him to stop.
Which was exactly what he’d done.
He’d said he was sorry, and I’d begged him not to stop.
I’d begged him.
His response had been to release me. My body had been screaming in protest at what it was being denied, and I’d been so humiliated that I’d left that room like it had been burning down around me.
Then I’d been speeding down an unknown road in Cass’s beloved car, the city looming in the distance. I’d had only one destination in mind.