Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I fly back against the headboard, pulling the covers up my body, like the pathetic thin sheets can protect me from whatever’s gotten him so agitated. His whole body is shaking with tension, and his jaw is tight. I’ve seen him behave like this before. When he saw a threat. He reaches under the mattress, keeping his eyes on the door in his bedroom, and pulls out a gun.
“Holy shit!” I scramble back some more, my eyes rooted to the weapon that always looks so comfortable in his grasp. Like an extension of his arm. “Jake—”
“Quiet, Cami!” he hisses, slowly pulling back a section on the gun. It clicks as he paces toward the bedroom door.
Even completely naked he looks lethal, every muscle on his back and in his legs poised to strike. He’s holding the gun steady by his thigh, his finger on the trigger. He takes a quick peek around the door frame, then disappears from view, and I’m left on the bed, shaking and struggling for breath.
Part of me is demanding I go after him. Part of me is telling me I need to stay put. Part of me is ordering me to run away. I feel small and useless, huddled on the bed, the silence killing me as I wait for…I don’t know. What am I waiting for? Shouts? Gunshots?
“Fuck!” Jake roars. My heart leaps into my throat and bursts, choking me. But I can’t move. Fear has frozen me in place. I hear a collection of curses and a few thuds…and then it goes silent.
“Jake!” I scream, my body coming to life and catapulting itself to the end of the bed, the sheets left behind in my haste. There’s no reply, and I hover on the brink of total meltdown, not knowing what to do for the best. “Jake!”
The door flies open and I jump back. It takes me a few seconds to focus, and a few more to see that the silhouette in the doorway isn’t Jake’s.
It’s a woman.
“Oh, this is just fucking perfect!” she yells, waving an accusing hand up and down in front of me.
Cautiously I move back, collecting the sheets to cover myself and assessing what I’m faced with. She’s short but looks formidable, and her black hair’s cut into a severe pixie style. She’s wearing a grey skirt-suit, a white shirt beneath the blazer. Who is this?
Jake appears behind her, towering above, his shoulders and head clearing her tiny frame. He looks pensive. I don’t like it. “I nearly blew your fucking head off, Lucinda,” he grumbles, flicking me a worried stare.
Lucinda? Who the hell is Lucinda?
“I wish you had!” she snaps, swinging around and coming face to face with Jake’s nipples. She huffs, steps back, and looks up, while Jake looks at her a little tiredly. “Because that”—she throws an arm back in the general direction of the bed, or in the general direction of me—“makes me want to shoot my own brains out!”
I gawk, offended, and Jake rolls his eyes. “Don’t let me stop you,” he mutters, turning and wandering across to a chair. He’s still totally naked and completely unbothered by it. And this Lucinda person, whoever she is, isn’t fazed by the mass of naked muscle, either. He pulls on some boxers and strides out of the room.
She starts stomping after him, her anger tangible. “Heads will roll, Jake! The whole fucking agency will suffer!”
Ooohhh…
I’m beginning to understand what her issue is. She’s a colleague, and she’s worried about the repercussions of mine and Jake’s involvement. My father’s wrath is something I’m well aware could cause problems for Jake and the agency he works for.
“And just because you couldn’t keep your cock out of a hole!” she rants on. “Any fucking hole! If it has a pulse and a fucking hole, it’s good to go, right?”
I recoil, disgusted, as I remain on the bed listening to Lucinda’s tirade about Jake’s stupidity, but Jake doesn’t argue, doesn’t breathe a word. Then it falls quiet, and I wonder, probably reasonably, whether he might have strangled her. I get off the bed with the sheets wrapped around me and creep toward the door, listening carefully for any signs of choking. But when I reach the threshold of Jake’s colossal living space, I see them both hunched over a desk that’s sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at a computer screen. Lucinda is very much alive.
I cough lightly, indicating my presence, and they both swing round. Jake gives me a little smile, while Lucinda shakes her head in despair.
“Have you met Lucinda, Cami?” Jake asks dryly, indicating the woman next to him. “She’s dead friendly.”
I’m halfway between smiling and trembling, unsure whether I should be teasing her like Jake seems so comfortable doing. “Hi.” I hold up an awkward hand, and she sighs, wandering over.