Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Noah was right that morning he stormed into Cristiano’s office to beat the crap out of me. I only wish he’d been strong enough to do it. But then that would make him a monster too, wouldn’t it? And she needs someone who isn’t that. A protector who isn’t a predator.
Is there such a thing? A coin has two sides.
No. That’s bullshit.
I’ve been holed up in the study for two days. We’ve got eyes on Jericho St. James but so far, nothing. He hasn’t moved from his location at the penthouse. But it’s Saturday night. If anything is going to happen it’s going to happen tonight. Charlie is working on tapping into his phone but again, nothing. The guy is locked down tight.
I twist the cap off the bottle of whiskey sitting on my desk but close it again. Mara’s right. I do drink too damn much. I check my phone for a message from Charlie for the hundredth time. Pérez is here. It’s why St. James is still in town. It’s the only reason. He’s a desperate man. He’s been hunting for the killer of his fiancée for five years. This is his chance. He wants confirmation of who put the hit out, and the way to get that, is to draw the son of a bitch out and get the recording from him. Although if it were me and I had a suspicion, I’d trust my gut.
But then I think about what he said. About the betrayals of those closest to us being the hardest to bear.
I pick up my phone to call Charlie again, but a knock at the door comes and a moment later, Matthaeus enters. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as me.
“Is it done?” I ask.
“Moved them twice, changed vehicles, men. She’ll be safe.”
“Good. How many soldiers did you leave?”
“Two in the apartment, two more in the building and constant guard outside.”
I nod and ask the question I really want to ask. “How was she?”
“Upset. Put up a hell of a fight.”
My jaw clenches.
He sits on the chair across from mine. I see how tired he looks but he studies me quietly. “You sure about this?”
“It’s best for her.”
“Is it?” he asks.
The image of Mara standing ghost-like on that cliff appears in my mind. “What do you mean? Someone’s watching her, right? She’s not alone.”
“How long can you keep someone on her 24/7?”
“As long as it takes.”
“I get it, what she’s feeling. You saved her life.”
“That’s the point. She hasn’t had a life—”
“Risked your own for her,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken. “You’re probably the only man she can think of who hasn’t hurt her.”
“I’ve hurt her.”
“Have you considered… When this is over, going back for her?”
I look down at the phone on my desk. Screen is still black.
“When Pérez is dead. When St. James is out of the picture,” he adds.
St. James’s words play in my mind. It’s not just Pérez. Monsters crowd me at every turn. I can’t cast my shadow over her. I won’t. Not if I have a chance to give her what she deserves.
“You can bring her back. Keep her,” he says, possibly confusing my silence for acquiescence. But I can’t entertain that. I won’t. This is hard enough without hope of something different. Of possibility.
“No, Matthaeus. I can’t.” I get up. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it or her.” I walk out of the study.
42
Mara
Noah and I are in an obscure hotel in a long-term stay unit on the outskirts of town. Two soldiers are inside the apartment with us, and more are on the property somewhere.
I look out of the window onto the pool which I can see inside the glassed-in space. People are swimming in this icy winter’s night, the glass foggy in places from the heat and humidity inside.
“Hey,” Noah says from the doorway.
I turn to find him holding a plate of toaster waffles. They smell good but I’m not hungry. “Hey,” I say, returning my attention to the people at the pool as I hear the door close after he enters.
“Breakfast for dinner. You need to eat something.”
“I have enough people telling me what I need to do. What’s best for me. Please don’t turn into one of them.”
He comes to stand at the window beside me. The plate is gone. I guess he set it on the desk. He’s quiet as he looks out onto the distant lights of the city.
I turn to look up at him. He’s about as tall as Dante but built differently, more lean muscle than bulk. And he’s just different. Not as hard as Dante. Not as broken. Even after everything he’s been through.
He turns to smile down at me, and I feel a tenderness for him I don’t feel for anyone else. I think it’s from those first days in captivity. I was so young. And he’d been there, the same age as me, and scared too. Both of us so scared. We’d needed each other.