Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 104682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Jude glanced out the window. "I wouldn't exactly call you a precaution," he muttered. "You’re like a big neon sign that says keep your hands off this one."
There was no mistaking the frustration in Jude's voice. I couldn't blame him. I got that having someone on him twenty-four seven felt like an invasion of his privacy, but I also couldn't just dismiss the proof that was staring me in the face. The mere fact that the individual had gone from writing threatening notes to taking an actual picture of Jude screamed escalation to me, but he didn't see it that way. And if he didn't see it that way, he wouldn’t change his own behavior. He wouldn't take the necessary steps to keep himself safe.
Jude's fingers thumped more heavily on the leather seat for several long minutes. We were just blocks from his apartment when he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. His eyes met mine for the briefest of moments before he dropped them. When whoever was on the other end answered, Jude said softly, "I'm sorry, I know it's late, but I need to see you."
My stomach did a painful twist. Who in the hell did he need to see? And why? He was clearly agitated and upset, but did he really need to go off and find someone else to comfort him?
What the hell, Nikolai? Is he supposed to fall into your arms seeking comfort? Really?
I told the sarcastic voice in my head to fuck off and forced myself to look out the window. The last thing I needed was for Jude to see my anger.
Especially since my anger was nothing more than plain and simple jealousy.
Jude muttered a couple of soft words like yeah and see you soon and then he hung up.
"Does the driver work for you?" Jude asked.
I knew what he was asking. He wanted to give the driver an order to take him someplace else besides his own home. I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that he didn't need to be with some other guy. That I would do my best to comfort him even though I had no clue how to do that.
"Where do you want to go?" I asked simply.
"Upper East Side. Fifth and Seventy-fifth."
The already painful twist in my belly grew impossibly tight. I knew that address and it made me want to throw up. I called myself a fool for forgetting who Jude Archer really was. At the same time, I rapped my knuckles on the partition that separated us from the driver and said, "Change of plans, Tony. Take us to Mr. Hayes’s place."
Chapter 8
Jude
I hated how relieved I felt at the sight of the familiar SUV sitting in front of Cliff’s building the next morning. It should've been the opposite feeling, especially now that I'd given up on trying to forgo the personal protection that Cliff was so intent on me having. It had only taken one look at the man's frail features as he'd quietly asked me not to fight Nikolai's presence anymore the previous night that I'd realized I had to raise the white flag. Even though I didn't really believe there was any true threat, the fact was that Cliff did and I wouldn't add to his stress. If it meant having to put up with Nikolai for the next however many weeks it took to get all this straightened out, I’d do it. I owed Cliff that and so much more.
I'd been in desperate straits the night before when I’d called Cliff. My frustration and agitation had been growing to crazy levels and I’d feared falling down a rabbit hole that I wouldn’t have been able to come back from quickly enough. I’d thought convincing Cliff to give up on the idea of having someone shadow me twenty-four seven would eliminate that lack of control I was feeling, but in truth, I’d also known that just seeing Cliff would remind me of everything I was striving to achieve.
The old man hadn’t managed to stay awake for long after my arrival, but that hadn't mattered. I'd just needed some place that was both familiar and yet not my own to escape to. And more importantly, I’d needed to get out from under the ever-watchful eye of one Nikolai Falkov. I had this strange feeling that he could read me too well. That he could see things I worked very hard not to let anyone see.
Ever.
Having had a short breakfast with Cliff, I now felt recharged and ready to tackle the day's tasks. Cliff’s security people walked me to the SUV but when I was just a handful of feet from it, it wasn't Nikolai who got out of the back. It was some guy I didn't know.
I immediately came to a stop and blurted, "Where's Nikolai? I mean, Nik?"