Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
“I don’t care what you think, Hunter! Sarabelle had your cuff link! Did you know that? And your real mother? Roxanne the escort? The Los Angeles Times knows all about her. In fact, about now they should be learning a lot about you, Hunter West. I came upon a whole stockpile of your history.”
I’m so shocked that my hands stop working and I lose my grip on her.
She dances out of reach, pale hair flying around her face. “It was so easy,” she laughs. “What I told you was true—we didn’t plan this. But Lockwood has a cousin on the police force. Someone really powerful.” Lead Detective Josh Smith. “Once he heard that they were really going to make a case out of this, he let Michael know, and we had to come up with a solution. At that point, I was pissed off.” She gestures at her body, laughing shrilly. “If you think you’re too good to be in one of my films, I’ve got no care for you, so it was no skin off my back” —she laughs at that— “for me to help him set you up.”
I lunge forward, grabbing her wrist, and she shrieks again as I jingle my keys. “Let me go!”
I fumble with the “unlock” button as I try to keep her talking. I suck a deep breath in through my nose as I unlock the doors. “I still don’t understand why you’re helping him at all.”
“Who?”
“Lockwood. Are you in love with him?” I know she’s not before she snorts, and I’m correct that the question will elicit an elaboration.
“In love with that disgusting boar? Of course not!”
I swing the door open, tightening my grip around Priscilla’s forearm. I’m going to get this shit recorded if it kills me.
“So it’s the governor,” I murmur as I shove her into the cab.
I guess it is, because she shrieks and goes nuts, kicking at my crotch and biting at my arm. “LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!”
“No,” I growl. I throw her skinny ass into the front seat, still gripping her arm so she doesn’t escape out the passenger’s door, and Priscilla starts to claw at me. As I try to climb in behind her, she pulls a can of Mace and sticks it in my face. I move so fast I’m out of the car before she can press the button on it. She tumbles out into the dirt.
As she gets to her feet, I try to grab her again, but she gets in a slap, and I reel.
“You can’t win this, you dumb fuck. It’s got roots you can’t imagine, and you’re the FBI’s suspect number one. That’s what I came to tell you!” She dashes off into the lawn, her hair trailing behind her as she dashes toward her parked Camaro. She stops mid-way, turning around to face me with a deviant smile and dancing eyes.
“You know, I am a little sorry, Hunter. Good men don’t belong in prison.” She shrugs. “Guess that’s what happens when you fuck hookers. Even pretty virgin ones.”
“If you touch her, I will kill you slowly,” I warn.
She laughs, throwing back her head. “Fits your MO so perfectly.” She waves, and she’s walking around her car—gone, and my opportunity is lost.
Chapter 29
Elizabeth
I WAKE UP the next morning feeling like something is missing. I roll over in my cozy bed, and that’s when I notice it’s Hunter’s bed!
That makes me grin into the pillows. My smile slips a little when I realize I’m in his bed alone, and it dies on my lips when I remember that today’s the day I promised I would leave.
And I’m leaving a virgin.
I don’t want to leave, and not just because of that. I don’t want to leave Hunter. He needs someone right now—I feel sure of it. I roll over in the sheets, inhaling his scent. If I leave now, we might never spend this kind of time together again. And what about the trouble he’s in? I’m a fixer, I guess. Probably because of Mom, but I find it difficult to leave someone in trouble.
I go into my room, check to see if there’s a text from Suri—there’s not—and then I slide into a casual red cotton dress and pin my hair back with clips. I check my phone again, not quite ready to leave the room and set this day in motion. The clothes I slept in still smell like Hunter, so I bring them to my nose.
How am I going to get over him? How will I move past any of this? Not just the experience with Hunter, but the dark story weaving itself around him. Sarabelle, Priscilla, Cross’s dad? I want to know more—for Cross’s sake, and for Hunter’s—but I know Hunter won’t tell me more.