Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
My head aches. My breasts are tender. I feel seasick.
And for once, I don’t appreciate being fully seated in my body experiencing it all. But I can’t tap out or I may not survive. I need to get my wits together and make a plan.
So far all I’ve come up with is walking until I get a phone or WiFi signal. But considering there’s a freaking blizzard outside, that plan could mean a quicker death than staying inside and starving.
It’s funny how being in a life or death situation sharpens everything to a fine point. I have clarity now.
I want the baby.
The instinct to protect the tiny life inside me changed everything. I’ve been far too reckless with my life, right up to my arrival here. But no more. There’s more at stake than one crazy woman. There’s a tiny, defenseless, innocent being relying on me for survival.
And I’d give anything right now to be able to call Paolo. For one thing, I know he’d rescue me in a heartbeat. For another… well, I don’t know what he’ll say about the pregnancy, but he deserves to know. We should have a conversation.
I shouldn’t have been scared of him or what he’d do. Even if he heard about the FBI picking me up, he’d give me a chance to explain what happened. He’s going to believe I wouldn’t turn informant.
The feds sucker-punched me with the photo of him with my dad, but it doesn’t prove anything. They were looking for any way to manipulate me.
The water boils and I pour some into a mug, then add the instant coffee and stir. My stomach turns. Ugh. Maybe I won’t be able to choke this down.
Outside, I hear the sound of a car. Grabbing my coat, I dash outside. Whoever it is, I need to flag them down.
An old pickup pulls down the dirt drive with two passengers. I squint to make out the face of the driver.
No.
It can’t be.
I stumble back and fall flat on my ass onto the porch steps.
Well, at least I know one thing with total certainty: Paolo definitely didn’t kill my dad.
No, he’s living and breathing and parking a pickup truck right in front of the damn cabin.
Paolo
It takes three and a half hours driving through a blizzard to arrive at what Trevor simply calls, “the cabin”. I drove my Rover, so we can at least manage the snow, but even with four-wheel drive, I slip and slide in places.
Every minute that passes, the gnawing dread in my gut grows larger. What if she’s not here? Then we just wasted the entire day driving out here to find her. Also—what if she is? I hate that she ran so far away. Is she really that afraid of me? How did she get here? I know she doesn’t know how to drive.
And I can’t even face my ultimate fear—that I won’t have the words to make her see I’m on her side. That she’ll choose to stay gone.
I want to say I won’t accept that. But it’s that character trait of mine that made her run. I can’t bulldoze myself into someone’s life. Well, I’ve obviously done exactly that, but I have to stop. I can’t make her want me. And bottom line, if I truly care about her, I have to respect her wishes if she really wants to be free of me.
Fanculo.
There are fresh tire tracks in the snow on the unpaved road Trevor directs me to. I hope to fuck they belong to the car that brought her here, although a million questions rage over who drove it and why they’re fresh. She’s been missing since last night, so if she got here yesterday, they’d be snowed over by now.
Fuck, I’m definitely overthinking.
“It’s right here,” Trevor says, pointing to a dilapidated old cabin—barely worthy of the name. A rusty pickup sits in front of the house.
“Who owns the truck?” I demand. If I were a dog, my hackles would be raised and I’d already be growling protectively.
“I don’t know.” Trevor ducks his head to peer through the large window in the front.
I park and turn off the vehicle.
But then I think he recognizes the person because Trevor lunges quickly and grabs for the gun I keep under my seat. Smart kid. He must've noticed it earlier. My reflexes kick in before I even process what’s happening. I smash his wrist against the dash. The gun drops into my lap.
“Porca puttana!” I tuck the weapon in my waistband in the back. “You’re lucky I didn’t break your fucking wrist.” We both get out of the SUV. “You’re also lucky I’m in love your sister or I would fuck you up for that. Who’s in there?”
He looks at me sharply, like he’s surprised I figured out that he knows.