Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Fine.” He threw his first. If she’d wanted him dead, she would’ve killed him when she had him nearly unconscious during those tests. Or rather, yesterday when she’d held that sniper rifle on those officers. He’d been in her sights, too.
“Very good. I appreciate it.” She tossed her gun over next to his, and they clinked together.
He retook his seat. She looked around and then sat on a stump to his left.
It had shocked the hell out of him when she’d knocked on his door a couple of days ago, saying that he had told her about the cabin on Viper’s Mountain. The cabin couldn’t be traced to him, and he truly could not remember telling her about it. Yet she’d shown up, pointed a gun at him, and informed him that his journals had been found—and she had a plan to get them back. She had a source in the FBI.
She looked at the volumes. “How could you have written down anything about your criminal activities?”
“I like to relive them.” He saw no reason to lie to her now. He was bigger, and he was stronger, and they were both unarmed. Her outfit was tight, and there was no way she’d hidden another weapon. If she had, it was a knife, and he could easily take it away from her. He hadn’t spent his time in jail getting fat. He’d worked out every day and was even stronger and faster than he had been before he’d been arrested.
“Do you talk about me in the journals?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. “What happened was your fault. I never would’ve killed those women without you.”
Her chuckle was low and reminded him of happier times. “That’s not true, and we both know it. You were on a path to kill. I tried to help you, Jason.”
Fury lashed through him, and he looked toward the guns.
She waved a hand in the air. “Don’t be silly. We’re in this together now.” She crossed her legs, making his mouth water. “What is your ultimate plan?” she asked.
To kill her, that was for sure. “I don’t know,” he lied. He also wanted a piece of her sister. Then maybe he’d move to a larger city, where he could get lost among the crowds. He missed following his girlfriends, spending time getting to know their schedules, watching them when they didn’t know it. Then the leaving of presents, flowers everywhere for them, forcing them to think about him. Only then did he strike.
“I have money,” she said. “I can help you get out of town.”
“I’m not quite ready to leave.”
She stood and started to walk to her car. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
“What are you doing?” He jumped to his feet.
“Would you relax? I’m getting something to drink. We’re sitting at a cozy campfire.”
He started to reach for the knife in his boot just as she leaned into the car and drew out a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“You brought wine and plastic wineglasses?”
“I’m a woman of fine taste.” She sauntered toward him, completely confident. Frankly, it was disconcerting. Then she sat and untwisted the bottle top.
“You don’t seem like a twist top.” He retook his seat and allowed his shoulders to relax. This time, he would not let her make him uncomfortable. He was in charge.
“There are very good vintages that now have twist tops.” She poured them each a glass and leaned over to hand him his.
“Switch me,” he ordered.
She frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Switch glasses with me.”
She snorted and then handed hers over, accepting his. “All right.” Perching on the stump, she took a healthy swallow.
He did the same, now feeling silly. The wine exploded on his taste buds, and he had to admit she was right. It was delicious.
“Your turn,” she said.
He reached for the nearest journal and tossed it to her.
Delight lifted her lips, and she opened it, tilting the pages toward the fire to illuminate them. “Naughty boy. You drew pictures, too, Jason.”
“I was an architect,” he said. “I like drawing.”
She read for a while, sipping her wine. “This is rather detailed.”
“I know.” His cock wept against his zipper.
She looked at him directly. “You’re smart enough to understand that we have to burn these, right?”
He finished his wine, understanding the danger the journals represented. But they were his, damn it. “I suppose so.”
“There you go,” she said happily, pouring more wine in her glass and then doing the same in his. “I brought an accelerant.” She put the bottle on the ground and walked back to her vehicle, pulling out a healthy-sized can of lighter fluid. “I know it’s difficult to let these go, but you want to be safe, and you can always rewrite them. You’re a genius, Jason. You can remember everything in great detail.”
She was correct.
“All right,” he said.
She ripped off the front of the journal she’d read and threw it in the fire before tearing out the individual pages and finally tossing the back cover in. Then she opened the can of lighter fluid and poured it all over the papers. They went up instantly, and a swoosh of fire flashed toward the trees.