Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Not that I could have known. I hadn’t had a clue, but I still felt like I’d missed some sign that could have prevented Cash from getting hurt. Maybe I’d been too reliant on deliveries. Too trusting. Too something. Too famous. That was it. I wasn’t ever outrunning Danny Love and the reputation that preceded me.
“I need a better disguise. Name change. Something,” I muttered.
“No, you don’t. This is not on you.” Cash patted my leg. “The guy is in custody now, right?”
”Yeah. We’ll have to see what they end up charging him with, but Barbara said they set the bail pretty high.” I blew out a breath, trying to get control over my voice and failing. “And apparently, there might be some mental health factors at work as well, so I’m mainly hoping he gets the help he needs. That’s more important than jail time.”
“It is. And you can be mad as fuck and still want him to get help if that’s what he needs.” As usual, Cash saw right through my attempts at getting a handle on my emotions.
“I don’t like being angry.” My mind flashed back to our talk at the cabin, but this didn’t feel like something punching a pillow would solve.
“I know.”
“Especially at you.” Admitting that hurt, but I couldn’t keep pretending all my anger was for the suspect. “Which is stupid, right? You saved my life. He was the one with the knife.”
“Yeah.” Cash didn’t seem perturbed by my admission at all. “He was. But you’re also human. You can still think I’m a dumbass for trying or for how I went about it.”
“Oh.”
“I have a buddy who lost part of his leg, saving a group of us on a mission.” Cash dropped his gaze to the floor, tone becoming more distant. “I was furious at the entire damn world a good long while. Me. Him. Others on the team. Faulty equipment. Bad luck. All of it.”
“That’s exactly it.” I put a hand on his. “I didn’t want you hurt. That’s worse than me hurt.”
“Not to me.” He raised his head, and our gazes met. For someone who liked to say he had no imagination or gift for poetry, Cash was writing me sonnets with his eyes. Metaphor had nothing on the layers of meaning passing between us. My body continued being unable to decide between throttling him and kissing him until this awful anger and helplessness went away. I was about to come down on the side of kissing when Harley reappeared.
Cash coughed, and I quickly moved my hand, moment evaporating.
“We should think about food,” Harley announced, apparently oblivious to whatever the hell was passing between Cash and me.
“The last thing I want is food.” I groaned and shifted farther away from Cash. “I’m never ordering another delivery again.”
“You can’t let one bad apple turn you on the whole concept,” Harley advised, plopping down on the other end of the big couch. “You need to eat, or else Money here will be even crankier. Eventually, you’ll figure out safer ways to do deliveries, but in the meantime, I’ve seen your pantry. How about I play pizza guy? I’ll deal with getting around the media.”
“You don’t have to stay.” I tried to sound more commanding than usual. “I can take care of Cash.”
“Maybe.” Harley shrugged like my offer was cute but not something to take seriously. “But Money’s in no shape to take care of you.”
“I don’t need babysitting,” I protested.
“Let the cops make sure produce guy was working alone, then we can all be out of your hair, and you can go back to relying only on the new security system.” Harley’s tone was pitched to be calming, but it still grated. “No way is the LT letting you go unguarded tonight, and something tells me you’d rather deal with me than him.”
He added a pointed look, gaze darting between Cash and me.
“Pizza sounds good,” I said quickly. “I like vegetables but no onions.”
“Got it.” He stood up, giving Cash another hard stare. Maybe he wasn’t so oblivious after all. Hell, I studied my hands until he was gone with a promise or, perhaps more accurately, a warning that he’d be back soon.
“Sorry,” Cash said after Harley was gone. “I know you’d rather be alone tonight, but he is right about you needing more protection, especially with the media circus.”
“I don’t want to be alone.” What I wanted was to be alone with Cash, not reminders that soon it could be only me and my alarm setup and no Cash. “I like you here.”
“Even though you’re mad?” Cash tilted his head.
“I’m not that mad.” Exhaling hard, I reached for his hand again, hoping Harley encountered the world’s longest wait for the pizza. “More like I’ve never been so scared. Cash, he could have killed you.”