Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Santiago.”
“Judge.”
More silence. Then a sigh.
“Is everything okay?” Judge grits out. “The guards seem to be on high alert.”
“Everything’s under control,” Santi answers vaguely.
I already know without looking at him that Judge won’t like this.
“Where is she?”
“Asleep.”
“Why are you here in the middle of the night?” Judge asks.
“Why are you?” Santi replies.
I swallow, waiting for this to be over. The terrible part is, I want to see him. I want to open the door and invite him in and curl up in the shelter of his arms. More than anything, that’s what I want. But Judge can’t be my safety net anymore. I can’t fall back into that trap.
“Her phone number was transferred,” Judge says quietly. “I wanted to make sure she was alright. She hasn’t answered my texts.”
“Maybe that’s because she doesn’t want to,” Santi snaps.
I feel the pain of that verbal blow, and I have to press my fingers to my lips to stop myself from telling him that’s not true. This is what addicts are supposed to do, right? Cut off their drug of choice cold turkey? I understand now why it’s so hard. I want him. I crave him. At times, I feel like I might die without him. In his warmth, nothing can touch me. Everything is okay for those fleeting moments. But then I remember the pain when he leaves me cold. And I know in my soul, for the sake of my heart, this is what I have to do.
“I know you’re angry with me, Santiago,” Judge continues. “But we want the same things for her. I want her to be safe. I want her to be happy.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“I set up an account for her.” He shuffles around, reaching for something before I hear him hand it to Santiago. “This is for her to take care of anything she needs. She and the babies.”
“You can’t buy yourself out of this,” Santi growls.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it? Why the hell are you here, Judge?” my brother demands. “To torment her? Haven’t you done enough?”
I close my eyes, wishing this would end. I don’t want them to come to blows again. I can’t deal with that. Not now.
“Judge.” Solana joins my brother at the door, glancing around his shoulder while she secretly squeezes my hand in hers. “Just go home, okay? Tonight isn’t the night to do this.”
Her voice holds an unexpected amount of sympathy, and I can only imagine Judge must look a wreck if that’s the case. Solana seems to be conveying something to him, and I wonder just how much he’s tried to talk to her.
There’s another quiet sigh from the outside, and then the sound of his retreating footsteps. I should be relieved when Santi closes the door and hands me the paper Judge gave him, but when I stare down at the account information, it burns. Right along with Santi’s words. You can’t buy yourself out of this.
I wish I knew if that’s what he was trying to do.
15
MERCEDES
The next few days pass in a weird blur of dissociation. Solana and Georgie stay true to their word, sleeping over at my place while the guards outside keep watch. There are four of them now, just as Santi promised. And when I’m not at home, I spend my days at Solana’s shop hanging out with her and Madame Dubois while Georgie often joins us for lunch.
Ivy has been texting me, but Santiago won’t let her come to the shop with the current threat looming over my head. He’s been extra careful with her since he almost lost her, and I don’t blame him. In a way, it’s actually kind of sweet, and Ivy doesn’t seem to mind. So we make plans to meet at the manor for lunch next week.
In the meantime, I’m fielding texts from both Judge and Clifton, who has oddly only grown more persistent. My approach to both is the same, although ignoring them doesn’t seem to be working. And while Judge’s texts make me homesick for a place I’m not even certain exists, Clifton is getting on my nerves.
“All I’m saying is he’s not buying what I’m selling.” Solana drags me back to the present conversation as she straightens the inventory on the shelves.
“You don’t have to text him back,” I answer absently, though I am curious to know what Judge has been asking her now that he’s texting her too.
“He’s worried about you.” She stops, tosses me a glance over her shoulder, and shrugs.
“He’s so worried he tried to throw money at the problem to fix it.” I glare down at the sprigs of lavender I’ve been trying to arrange neatly in their buckets.
“I don’t think that’s how he meant it.”
My eyes snap up to her back, and Solana seems to sense my irritation as she turns and offers me an innocent smile.