Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Yes. No. I don’t know.
Green eyes.
Green eyes held the answers to everything.
“The trauma I experienced was blocked out by being taken by your men.” I held up my arm, showing him the minor burn on the underneath of my forearm. “Something happened last night. I was burned again. Maybe it triggered something in my brain, giving me amnesia.”
“So you claim. Your last chance to tell the truth.” He leaned over me, searching my gaze. “Your last chance to admit you’re just faking it. I’ve agreed not to sell you… for now. I’ll honor that for you helping me last night. Tell me the damn truth.” His posture hinted that he fully believed this was all an elaborate act. His strong features were fierce—determined to make me trip.
I shook my head. “I am telling the truth. I truly don’t remember anything. Don’t you think I would prefer to know who the hell I am? To be able to remember my family, my name—my purpose in this life?”
He backed away, smirking coldly, no trace of understanding on his face. “So I guess the nickname Forgetful Girl is staying.” He raised a hand, pointing at me. “I’ll know when you remember, sweetheart. I’ll see it in your eyes and when I do, then we’ll discuss your future.”
I gritted my teeth, hating his smugness, the cold aloofness that had replaced the small connection we’d been able to build last night. I had no reply.
“Get dressed. We’re late.”
Without another word, he stalked from the room, leaving me to slip into the board shorts and T-shirt he’d left at the end of the bed.
Prison.
I didn’t know what I expected when Kill dragged me from his home, plonked me on the back of his bike, and drove along busy roads beneath hot sunshine. Ideas of returning to the compound, or going to see a doctor—which would probably be advised—even the concept of a restaurant to eat at wasn’t far-fetched.
But jail?
That never crossed my mind.
Kill parked the bike in a designated parking spot and took back the helmet he’d graciously given me.
He had the manners of a gentlemen all wrapped up in the cutthroat harshness of a criminal.
His brown leather jacket hid the well-tailored black blazer he’d slipped over the requisite black T-shirt and trousers. He looked like a bad businessman who’d escaped from the office to play gangster.
But I knew the truth. There was nothing playacting about him.
He smoothed his hands through his long hair, jerking it back so it looked effortlessly styled and sleek with just one motion.
I hated how capable he looked. His skin was a healthy tan, his green eyes bright with intelligene, and his five-o’clock shadow trimmed but not shorn. Until I witnessed the painful way he moved, I would never have guessed he’d almost died from blood loss last night.
“Why are we stopping here?” I tried to shield my eyes from the sunshine.
“I have to go in there.”
“Why?”
He scowled. “You really think I have to answer your questions?”
“You want me to answer yours.”
He huffed. “Fine. My boss is in there.” He looked to the tall, threatening building, then back to me. “Shit, I didn’t think this through.”
He massaged the back of his neck, eyeing me coldly. “I’m so used to coming here—I didn’t think about visitor’s passes or what the hell I’d do with you.”
My skin crawled at the thought of entering such a place. “I don’t want to go with you.”
He chuckled. “You and me both. There’s no way I’m parading you in front of Wallstreet. Even if I could get you in.”
“Wallstreet?”
He smashed his lips together, then snapped. “None of your—”
“Goddamn business.” I finished for him, attempting a small smile, even though I felt exposed and entirely too vulnerable to be outside Florida State Penitentiary.
Yesterday I thought having no memory was a blessing—granting me strength where I might’ve been catatonic with terror. But now… now I felt as if strangers knew more about me than I ever would, that my secrets were floating around unclaimed, drifting further and further out of reach.
Kill rubbed a hand over his jaw, wincing as his injury made itself known. Then his eyes lit up, and he pulled out a cell phone from his back pocket. “I’ll call a babysitter. Keep an eye on you.”
“I’m not babysitting a fucking traitor.”
I jolted at the violence of the sentence. Questions followed swiftly. Who was the traitor? Me? Was my dream from my past or just a figment of my imagination?
My fingers tickled my side as I traced the burns below. Is that how it happened? A house fire?
I couldn’t stomach being around other people. Kill was my link. The green-eyed answer who I needed to keep close. I didn’t want anyone else.
My head snapped up. “Wait! I’ll stay. You have my word I won’t run.”
He paused, his thumb hovering over the screen. “I don’t trust you.”