Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I let out a tired chuckle. “If you insist.”
Frankly, he didn’t need to twist my arm. This op was about to get expensive.
Vincente left the room, and soon, the doctor did as well.
Jesus Christ, I was spent. I’d been put through the fucking wringer tonight, and I hadn’t slept properly in days.
Joel blinked sleepily at me and sniffled.
We’ll find her. If it’s the last thing I do.
“Let’s get some rest.” I walked over to him and offered an arm—okay, never mind. He didn’t want any help. He scooted off the table and headed for the door.
I’d come back for the cash tomorrow morning when Vincente was long gone. Hell, I was taking all of it.
Our new guest room looked much the same as the first one, without a shattered window, and with a balcony that faced the western part of the property. It was reassuring to see the bright spotlights were still on. I wasn’t particularly worried; Vincente had a dozen guards who were staying behind until we left, and they were on high alert. I was also confident we’d captured all the attackers tonight. Sending a new crew so soon didn’t seem likely.
Claudia, the woman who apparently ran the household, had made sure all our things had been brought to our new room, including a new snack cart with more food than we could eat.
I was kind of starving, so I—
“I’m surprised you didn’t give Vincente a good fuck before he left.”
What the fresh fuck?
I stopped abruptly on my way to the cart and stared at Joel.
He sat down on the end of one of the beds and pulled up a foot to rest it across his knee. The soles of his feet were probably as scratched up as mine were after our barefoot run on the dirt road.
“Did you actually just say that?” I had to ask. “Is it the drugs talking? What did Garcia give you besides oxy?”
He shrugged a little and brushed dust off his foot.
The sight annoyed me because he wasn’t doing it right. So I went straight into the bathroom, soaked a towel in warm water, and returned to him.
“Do you honestly think I would fuck someone who’s gotten rich on causing so much pain to society?” I got down on one knee before him and took over, whether he liked it or not.
“Don’t give me that shit,” he chuckled quietly. “You two clearly had a thing when you were undercover.”
Why did Joel care, though? I found that much more interesting than his bullshit assumption.
“He thinks we fucked. The man fucks anything that moves.” I wiped the towel carefully over his heel and brushed off a sharp little pebble half stuck in his skin. “If getting closer to someone gives me more information, I might go that route. With Vincente, it was easy because almost every day is Friday.”
In my field, I’d gotten pretty good at recognizing addicts. Vincente was one of those resistant motherfuckers who’d gotten lucky. He definitely loved his coke, but he was a functioning addict who could control himself. With that said…when he let loose and got high, he didn’t stop until he thought he could fly.
“I woke up next to him a couple times,” I admitted. “I made it look like we’d done more. He didn’t remember anyway.”
I saw how Joel clenched his jaw.
I looked him in the eye. “Why do you care? And don’t lie to me, Joel. Just once, be honest with me.”
He furrowed his brow.
The painkillers definitely had a hold on him, but he was lucid enough.
“When was I not honest with you?” he asked quietly. “When did I not put myself out there for you?”
Fair point—but he’d also stopped and pulled a 180 on me. He’d gone from sweet and openly hopeful, which had been so goddamn contagious, to completely closed off. He’d stopped talking to me altogether. That had been his way of letting me down. Of telling me he’d changed his mind.
“You know why I care.” He averted his gaze and peered out the windows.
I swallowed hard and started working on his other foot.
God-fucking-damn him. He couldn’t do this to me—not again. Not for a second time. Where was my hatred? Because I fucking needed it. It’d kept me sane for years now. It’d kept me from moving halfway across the world when I’d heard from Piper that they were getting married. It’d kept me from getting drunk and saying too much on their wedding day…unlike someone else.
“I had this dumb dream. Thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you, you know… But you had to go and be all… Whatever. What’s done is done, and… Fuck, I love her so much. I can’t picture my life without her anymore, Elliott. She’s everything. She owns me completely.”
I gnashed my teeth and probably didn’t do his second foot as well as the first, but I needed distance. I went over to the snack cart and poured a drink.