Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Hope tilted her head to the side, the corner of her mouth tipping up as she watched me squirm. “You’re my dream, you idiot. I can’t believe you even had to ask.”
Pure relief washed through me. I’d hoped, but I didn’t know. “I thought, for once, someone should ask. I don’t want you with me out of obligation. Because you think you need to save the town or protect my inheritance. I want you with me because you love me. Because you believe I love you. Edgar said I have a target on my back until you got pregnant, but you being pregnant moves the target to you. I thought if we waited until the five years were over we’d be safe. But life isn’t safe and I want you. I want our baby. Tell me what you want me to pack so I can get you to Atlanta and we’ll figure out the rest after that.”
Hope looked at me, her eyes spilling fresh tears and glowing with love. I wasn’t ready for what came out of her mouth.
“No. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Hope, I don’t want to argue about this.”
“Neither do I. My arm hurts. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I love you and I just want to curl up on the couch together. Or in bed. I don’t care where, but this is a stupid plan.”
“Hope, we can’t stay here. What if you’d been shot yesterday? You could have died today.”
“If we leave, your cousin Bryce gets everything. Am I the only one who remembers that?”
“I don’t care,” I ground out. “I don’t care about the will and I don’t care about Bryce. Let him have it. I care about you and our child.”
Hope gave me a flat stare. She stood slowly, wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand before she crossed the room and started to make a cup of tea.
Wasn’t she listening? We didn’t have time for tea. We needed to get on the road. We needed to leave. We needed—
“I care about your legacy,” Hope said. “And I’m not going to be the reason that you lose everything.”
“As long as I have you, I’m not losing anything,” I said.
She turned and gave me a patient, mild look. The look I imagined she’d give a toddler who wasn’t listening. “You’d lose your family, Griffen. They’re your real legacy. Not Sawyer Enterprises. Your family. You can’t leave them now. We finally have everyone back under one roof. Together. Sterling is drinking less. Royal wants to work with you. You talked to Ford. We’re not leaving.”
“Hope, this isn’t the time to get stubborn. Don’t you understand? Your life is on the line.”
“Griffen, you are one of the smartest men I know, but you’re not thinking clearly. Understandable, considering we almost got killed, your car is totaled, and you just found out you’re going to be a father. But you need to think. Your father was murdered. Unless you believe Bryce did it because he knew the details of the will, then the will doesn’t have anything to do with this.
“We can leave, but you’re still Griffen Sawyer. In Sawyers Bend, Atlanta, Fiji. You’re still Griffen Sawyer, and I’m still your wife, and this is still your baby. I don’t think this is about the will at all. I think this is someone who has a grudge against the Sawyer family. We’re safest together.”
I sank back into the chair and stared at Hope as she calmly stirred honey into her tea and sipped. Goddamnit. We’d talked about this the day before, but I’d still been thinking about it from the wrong angle. The will, the company, Bryce—all of it pointed me into seeing money as a motive.
Hope was right. If money had been the motive in my father’s murder, then who stood to gain? Me. Possibly Bryce, assuming he knew about the will when no one else had.
If this wasn’t about money, if it was about a grudge against the Sawyers, then Hope was right. We could run, but if someone had it out for us they’d follow. My father was dead. Ford was in prison. Was someone trying to knock us off one by one? Was Royal next?
Making a decision, I stood up, turned on the gas fireplace so the flames flickered warm and cheerful. Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, I said, “Come here.”
Hope crossed the room to me, cupping her tea in both hands. I drew her down on the couch, putting her tea on the coffee table and pulling her close.
“How bad is your arm?” She couldn’t take any decent painkillers this early in pregnancy. I knew it had to hurt like a bitch.
Typical of Hope, she said, “It’s fine.”
I pressed my lips to the top of her head, settling inside now that she was lying against me, her body warm in my arms. “Liar. I know it hurts. I’m going to call down to the kitchen, get you something to eat, but we need to talk to Hawk first. Are you up for that?”