Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He doesn’t look back before he disappears into his room, completely ignoring me.
Boneless, I drag myself back to my bed, this time locking the door behind me.
I’ve never met a man who makes me want to scream so effortlessly.
I want to pummel my pillow, but I just don’t have the energy.
Plus, the noise would probably bleed through the wall we share. I shudder at the thought of that smug, broody superprick smiling at how bad he’s riled me up.
I hope to God he was serious about leaving.
And somehow, I hope even harder that I’ll never have to see his crazy face again.
* * *
After about an hour of tossing and turning, I’m in that sickly space between rage and sleep and pure exhaustion.
The last day has been a doozy and a half.
My brain won’t stop looping everything he’s said to me.
The horny threats. The arrogance. The teasing. The attraction.
The walking mystery.
Look, I barely know him, even after he’s managed to push buttons I didn’t know I had.
The whole cloud hanging over him complicates my plans to give Evie a fair shake for Dad’s sake, regardless of whether or not I can stand her.
But after that dinner...it’s hard to have any doubt that she’s bad news. I can’t help wondering what it was like actually growing up with her as a mom.
Are Chris’ assholery and sexaholic tendencies just symptoms of the rot she left behind?
I shake my head, hating that I want to push the pieces together and knowing full well I shouldn’t.
Distance is the best thing for me—a cold dark chasm between our lives.
Easier said than done.
Something about watching him blow out of my life like this shocks my heart worse than anything he’s said.
I’m worried for Chris, for myself, for Dad.
If Evie made my new stepbrother the man he is—an ego-grenade who has to risk his life to prove his worth, however noble—what will she do to Dad before this cringe marriage withers on the vine?
A notification on my phone from school silences my questions.
Professor Thosser means business, prodding me about my thesis again.
Heck, he’ll expect an outline in another few weeks, well before my final semester starts, and I’m scraping the bottom for good ideas that could make or break my future.
I remember the last thing Chris said.
Don’t need the stress between missions.
Hm. Just what was he doing in the SEALs?
What does he do now?
Have those hands that melt me with every touch killed people?
Have those eyes like a forest fire watched friends die?
He’s a rare breed, living a life I can’t imagine.
Oh, but I do.
And when I do too much imagining over the next hour, I can’t help bolting out of bed and walking over to my desk. I pull up a chair and open my laptop.
A quick search scouring the web for recent articles about SEALs turns up what I want.
The big raid outside Damascus.
It was all over the news about a year ago. We even talked about it in my international politics class.
US Special Forces went after several terrorist groups, but they’d also gotten in the middle of an Iranian operation brought in to help the Syrian government.
Iranians and Americans traded fire for the first time in decades.
When the dust settled, there were three servicemen killed—all SEALs—plus the wreckage of several high-tech gliders left behind.
It almost caused a broader war. A SEAL unit was definitely involved in the raid in a country the US isn’t technically at war with. The top Pentagon brass kept the details close to their chest, deflecting the media’s attention.
I stare at the words and maps on my screen, pushing a sharp lump down my throat.
Is this it? One more ugly tragedy in Chris’ life?
The timeline certainly fits.
But his mother brought up that other weird raid over dinner, didn’t she? Something that would’ve happened after he left the service.
I do some more Googling. Eventually, I find this blurb from a big arrest on St. John in the Virgin Islands.
Jordan Warzach was extradited to his home state of Virginia to face a battery of human trafficking charges. FBI and special tactical teams turned up connections to the Joaquin cartel that are still being heavily investigated—and not without a cost.
Two members of the prestigious Enguard Security tactical unit were seriously injured in a recovery operation to rescue Warzach’s victims.
All were females under fifteen years old. The girls are currently being held in FBI protective custody while the bureau expedites their care and safe return to their families.
My heart stings, and I reach up, rubbing my eyes.
What kind of sicko enslaves literal children?
And what kind of burden does the hero who saves them carry when he walks away, having seen that kind of horror up close?
My greedy little heart skips another beat.
It’s a question I shouldn’t ask—a question Chris would never talk about—but it’s compelling. Especially for an academic blowhard like Thosser, who’s always looking for his next shock and awe piece, including the stories he’s helped cultivate through his students.