Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Lucas handed me the largest cup after he set the food down. “Figured you might need a kick after last night.”
My attention slid to Z sprawled in the room’s only chair. He had been busy taking large bites of the burrito Lucas had handed him. When he noticed my worried looked, he mumbled around a mouth full of food, “Heard the entire thing, princess.”
I groaned and wondered if these two had any sense of decorum.
“You shouldn’t hide from us. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t care.”
My eyebrow quirked as I regarded them. “You mean your loyalty to Angel isn’t the reason you hunted and kidnapped me?”
“We’ve never had a little sister,” Lucas answered with a shrug and a mouth full. They had the worst table manners.
“Well, then, word of advice, big brothers don’t touch their little sisters the way you two have touched me.”
I happily watched them choke on their food as I sipped my hot coffee slowly. I rolled my eyes at their wide grins once their throats cleared. Perverts.
An hour later, we were checked out and on the road. I wasn’t hysterical this time, but I did grow nervous when Z steered Joey’s bullet-riddled car north.
“Where are we headed?” I tried to keep the tremble from my voice and failed.
“Indianapolis.”
“But the city’s mainstream. He’ll find me.” I was feeling the beginnings of a panic attack.
“Not if you know how to blend in.”
I felt frustration bubbling to the surface. Instead of placing more distance between Chicago and me, they were dragging me closer to the senator’s reach. I needed a way out of their clutches before they got me killed. “Angel’s got bigger problems than me, don’t you think? Victor is dead, but the book is still missing. Why is he so concerned with the senator when his precious legacy is still out there?”
“Angel decides what his priorities are, princess.”
“Then why isn’t he here?”
“He’s keeping an eye on the senator while we keep you hidden.”
“Why doesn’t he just kill him?”
“The senator’s murder would raise too many questions. The Knights have thrived as long as they have because they don’t believe in sloppy work.”
“How can I protect my son if the senator lives? You said it yourself—I can’t run forever.”
“He’s going to die, princess. But it won’t be murder.”
My head spun. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know what any of this meant. How could Angel kill the senator without killing him?
I stroked my sleeping baby’s cheek as tears fell. “I’m sorry I got you into this,” I whispered to him.
I could feel eyes on me and looked up to find Z watching me. “You’re a great mother, princess. If my mother had half the instinct you do, I wouldn’t be screwed up.”
I hesitated to enter dangerous territory but found myself more curious than afraid. “Tell me about her, Zachariah.”
His jaw flexed. “She was a crack whore. There’s nothing to tell.” I was surprised at the venom in Z’s tone.
“Was she always on drugs?”
“No.”
“What about your father? Couldn’t he have helped her?”
His laugh was dry. “He’s the one who gave her the drugs, princess.”
“He was a dealer?”
He shook his head, and when he turned his head to face me, his green eyes were nearly blackened with pain. “He was her pimp. He used drugs to control her. When she was strung out, he got bored and ditched her.”
And you.
I couldn’t help but feel pity for the man with an easy smile and anger for his mother who couldn’t fight hard enough to keep him protected.
“No one’s called me Zachariah since her.”
My stomach ached at the thought of causing him pain. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
“No.” He turned to stare out the windshield. I wanted to ask if she was dead, but his wall was already up again, so I turned to Lucas.
“What about you, Lucas?”
“What about me?”
“Where are your parents?”
He snorted. “My dad already had a family, so he had no use for me, and my mom didn’t either when she realized I wasn’t enough to break up a happy home.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Nine years ago.”
I frowned, not expecting the answer to have been so long ago. He was only eighteen the last time he’d seen his father.
“What happened?”
“He hired Art to kill my mother.”
I couldn’t catch my gasp of surprise before it slipped. “Why would he—”
“He paid her to make us go away. After she had collected, she ran and left me behind. I was found on the streets, placed in foster care, and eventually, a group home after I caused too many problems. When the money was gone, she wanted more, but my father refused, so she threatened to expose their affair to the rich heiress he married unless he paid to keep her quiet.”
“So Art killed your father?” How much hate could Lucas hold for his father to work for the man who killed him?