Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
"Tor..." his fingers brush my face, and I jump, my eyes flashing open. He approaches me cautiously like he's worried the slightest movement may send me over the edge. His eyes are full of pity, and I hate it. "I just miss you," he whispers, his eyes locked with mine. "I'm sorry." He stands staring at me, uncertain of what to do.
Tears fill my eyes. I hate that Joe has done this to me, to us. I'm angry at myself for being this weak. This is Jude. I know he would never hurt me, but my mind is so damaged, so conditioned, that it doesn't seem to matter. "I'm sorry," I choke.
He shakes his head and reaches for me, pulling me close to him. I press my cheek to his broad chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and timing my frantic breaths to it.
"Don't be." He rubs his hand up and down my back, comforting me in a way only he can. "Let's just go to bed, okay?"
I nod, and he takes my hand and leads me back to the bedroom. I curl on my side, and he lays behind me, pulling me into the crook of his body. I wish I could stay like this with him forever, with him protecting me from the world.
"Give it time, doll," he breathes. "I'm not going anywhere."
I nod and cling to the strong arm wrapped around me. They say time heals all wounds. I can only hope that's true.
I'm alone in the makeshift office. I blank out as I stare at the papers on the desk. The window is cracked so I can listen to the pine needles rustling in the light breeze. For some reason, that sound soothes me. We've been at this cabin for almost three weeks, and once a week Joe sends me a video clip that I delete. I have Rich and Paul and David trying to track Joe down. Nothing. David thinks he's out of the country. I don't give a shit where he is. I will find him, if it takes me the rest of my fucking life, I will get him.
Tor is slowly beginning to resemble her old self. She no longer flinches if I touch her, and she doesn't break down when I kiss her, but she still has those fucking nightmares every night. She wakes up screaming or crying, whimpering. I hate that. Joe has worked his way so deep into her; he's so far under her skin that he's like a fucking disease just eating away at her from the inside out. She told me the other day that when she was with Joe, she prayed for death. She said she'd never prayed before because she didn't believe in a god, but, at the time, she thought if one did exist he would pity her enough to end it. What do you say to that? I can't take that fear away from her no matter how badly I fucking want to. He branded her physically and mentally, and I don't know that those wounds will ever completely heal.
I stare at the names David sent me. All these men are tied to Joe, and as I glance down I find two that, at one time, were clients of mine. Leaning back in the chair, I see Tor step into the doorway, and rest against the frame. She dyed her hair blonde again, and despite all she's been through, she somehow just radiates this glow. Her steel-blue eyes drift over to me, and a small smile plays on her full lips. God, that woman is fucking beautiful. Even with the hatred and coldness that tries to overtake her at times, nothing can make her seem less than perfect. She's mine. My gaze slowly skims down her body, halting when it reaches the low cut dip in her dress. I feel my dick swell. I can't fucking help it. My eyes trail further down to the hem of the short, pale blue dress she's wearing. It hits midway up her thigh. She shifts her legs, and the hem rises a little. I adjust myself in my seat to make my tightening jeans less constricting. I want to fuck her so badly, but I'm not even attempting that.
"Do you know where he is yet?" she asks, drumming her fingers over the wooden doorframe.
I grab my cigarettes and tap one loose from the pack, placing it between my lips. I hold the flame to the tip and drag in a lungful of smoke. "No," I say, exhaling.
"We need to find him, Jude," she sighs, staring at the wall. "Every day that he's breathing... I just need him dead."
I take another hit from the cigarette, blowing a steady stream of smoke from my lips as I think about how I want to kill fucking Joe. About how I want to drag it out over the course of a goddamn month, but I'm not going to say that to Tor right now, so instead I just say, "I know."