Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Why do images of Trav’s hot, naked body pinning me to his bed and taking me over and over want to fill my mind? There are more important things to focus on.
Like trying to get Trav to agree to letting me go find Hale to keep him safe.
The quicker I can get to Hale, the better. If Walker gets to him first, Hale’s as good as dead.
As soon as I have a shower, some downtime, and some sleep, I’ll be out of here before Trav can stop me. It’s not what we discussed. It’s not what he wants.
But Hale is my responsibility, and it’s both our lives at stake. I need to do something.
I stand. We come face to face, Trav slightly leaning toward me, and we’re so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.
“Uh …” I swallow hard. “I’ll take that shower now.” I cut him off before he can say what he no doubt wants to. “Alone.”
“Damn. We’re not even going to discuss the naked thing?”
“Nope.”
Trav sighs dramatically. “I’ll go find you some clothes, then.” He puts the plates in the kitchen sink and then heads down a hall in the opposite direction to his bedroom.
I remain awkwardly where I am, taking in the god-awful, tacky furniture in here, and am silently thankful that he’s let me sleep in his bedroom. It’s the only place in this house that won’t give me a headache.
When he returns, he has some sweats, a pair of tactical pants, and a couple of muscle tees.
“Do your guys wear any clothes while you’re here? Again, I’m getting the impression your company is code word for orgies. Or pornos. God knows this place is decorated like a porn set.” I reach for the clothes, but Trav doesn’t let them go.
“For someone who’s not interested in me, you sure do want to know a lot about the orgies I may or may not have with my men.”
I shiver at the way he says his men because with that much sex in his tone, it’s hard to believe he hasn’t fucked each and every one of them. “Before you said it was against the rules. Now you’re saying you may or may not do it. So which is it?”
Trav cocks his head. “Is everything a test for you? I didn’t deny it twice, so therefore I must have been lying?”
“When I think the person I’m talking to is a professional liar, yes, I like to call it out.”
“The funny thing about that is I have never once lied to you. Ever.”
I try to read his expression, but it’s closed off. I swear his lips twitch, but I can’t be sure.
I choose not to believe he could be serious about never lying to me. “I call bullshit.”
“Guess you’ll have to learn the hard way, then.” He finally hands over the clothes properly and walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of a horribly decorated pimp’s dream.
I walk in the opposite direction toward the bedroom I slept in last night but can’t help looking back right before I get to the entryway. He’s standing in the opposite hall, watching me. Or, more specifically, my ass. And I hate how my body vibrates with need at the notion Trav might not be lying.
About anything.
Which makes my plan to leave him as soon as he’s asleep tonight so much harder to carry out.
Chapter Ten
Trav
When I hear the bedroom door click open at early goddamn morning o’clock, I suppress my laugh. I knew he was planning on running.
He’s going to do the stupidest thing anyone has ever done in the history of criminals. I realize Dylan has to play on the right side of the law because he’s too dumb to survive the underbelly of America.
There are bad guys who have endless resources to find him, and he wants to run around LA looking for someone who most likely won’t be able to help us.
His innate do-gooder attitude is going to get him killed.
He shuffles his way around me as silent as he can, but it’s not enough. A falling feather would wake me with how light I sleep.
It’s still dark out. Ideally, he’d turn around and go right back to bed, but I know him too well for that. I pretend to still be asleep because I want to see what he does, even though I’m pretty sure I already know his intention.
Dylan sneaks out of the room, and then the sound of jingling keys echoes in my ear as he picks them up. It’s only for a split second before he palms them to make them quiet. The night stills, and though I can’t see him, I picture him pausing to make sure he hasn’t woken me. Then, when he thinks he’s sure, he slips out the front door, and it clicks closed behind him.