Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 85(@200wpm)___ 68(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
My shock allows the instructor to get a hold of me. He wrestles me back against his chest and straps me into the equipment, his strength thwarting my struggles. Not to mention he can touch the bottom of the pool here and I can’t. I flail helplessly, watching as Catherine tosses fins and goggles into the water, maybe to make it look as though they came off? Or I never got them on? I only have a moment to speculate before the useless mouthpiece is shoved into my mouth and I’m forcibly pushed under water.
Desperate, I try to breathe.
There is just enough oxygen in the line for a gasp and then nothing.
I’m going to die.
Twin bellows of rage cut through the water and I let my struggles cease. My heart swells in my chest knowing they came to save me, while I’m also terrified that Catherine will fire the gun at one of her sons. It’s an unthinkable possibility and I start to fight in the instructor’s hold again, wanting to get to them. To shield them, help them. Anything.
There’s a loud splash somewhere nearby and then I’m being ripped away from my captor into Jacob’s arms. He pulls me to the surface and the mouthpiece is gone, gone so I can breathe and I suck in droves of air while Jacob shouts at me, his eyes wild and rimmed with red, pool water streaming down his face. “Zoe! Are you okay? Jesus Christ. Angel, say something!”
I nod through my sputtering, but I can’t gather words. My throat is one fire.
“Jacob! Is she okay? Tell me she’s okay.” Bridger calls from outside the pool, his expression haggard. There’s a gun in his hand and he’s pointing it at his mother who is face down, hands behind her back. Her lips peeled back in a grimace.
The cops are rushing in from all sides of the pool area, guns drawn, walkie-talkies crackling and sirens approaching from somewhere in the distance.
“She’s alive.” Jacob plants kisses all over my face, crushes me to his chest. “Scared but alive.” He swims with me to the edge. “Everything is okay now, angel. We’ve got you. Never again. She’ll never touch you again.”
Jacob boosts me up onto the concrete lip of the pool and Bridger is there, kneeling and pulling me onto his lap. Burying his lips in my hair. The cops have taken over the arrest of his mother and I watch over my stepbrother’s broad shoulder as she’s hauled toward the exit, struggling in the officer’s hold.
“No one is going to bail you out this time,” the cop says dryly.
“We found out she’d been released and came straight here,” Bridger says raggedly. “You weren’t in the room. We couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“She’s been living with me for a while,” I manage, still gasping. “She knows I like to swim before dinner.”
Jacob crowds in behind me, wrapping his soaked arms around us as far as they’ll go. Bridger tips up my chin and kisses me, right there in front of the milling police officers and harried hotel staff. His tongue pumps in and out of my mouth, telling me without words that I’ll be responsible for abating his hunger later. Just as my thighs start to climb my oldest stepbrother’s hips involuntarily, needing to get closer, Jacob growls and tugs my hair back, attacking my mouth from behind, his erection stiff against my backside. “We’re never letting you out of our sight again.”
The decision I struggled with earlier comes into clear focus.
I don’t want to give up my life.
But with every passing moment, it’s becoming obvious that I have a connection to these men that can’t be severed. Not without all of us being miserable.
“You’re never letting me out of your sight?” I whisper.
Bridger’s jaw is made of granite. “No.”
“Then I hope you like to travel.”
Epilogue
Bridger
Four years later
I sit back against the cushions and puff my cigar, blowing smoke into the twilight.
The water of the French Riviera is spread out in front of me, lights twinkling from the land in the distance. Stars shine overhead, water lapping lazily against the side of the boat.
Perhaps I would admire the view more if it wasn’t for Jacob and Zoe fucking like animals on the bow of the yacht.
My mouth curves in a smile around my cigar and I lean forward to adjust the viewfinder of the camera, double-checking the record light is on, making sure I’m capturing the right angle. On the occasions when Jacob and I have to fly to Colorado for a board meeting, we like to bring Zoe with us. Digitally.
I can’t count how many times we’ve sat side by side on the private plane, pretending our jerking fists are the special heaven between her thighs.
Of course, we prefer her live and in the flesh, as she is right now.