Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Forgiveness was one thing. Forgetting was another. She couldn’t have both. Not from me at least.
I was almost to the top of the staircase when I heard the front door open. I didn’t look back to see her walking out of the house. I didn’t tell her to drive carefully or text me when she arrived home safely. It wasn’t my place or my concern. She was an adult and could take care of herself. If I started caring, I didn’t know if I could stop. The line had to be drawn somewhere, and I was using a motherfucking Sharpie to do it.
It took two days for Sarah to start talking to me in full sentences again. When she had woken up to find out Oakley had gone home after the movie, she had been upset. With me. Granted, I probably deserved it. When I saw her texting Oakley that morning and Oakley responded, I’d been so fucking relieved because she had made it back safely. She was a woman. I would have been worried about any female driving that far alone at night. Especially if I was the reason she had done it to begin with.
Now that Sarah was back in school and I wasn’t off dealing with that shit in Atlanta, I could get back to my regular routine. Whatever the fuck that was. Things had gotten so twisted lately that I was forgetting what normal was.
The images of what we’d done to the guy we tried to get to tell us who was in charge of their death-sentence drug smuggling still played in my head when I let my guard down. The shit that had been done to him and he never gave up a name—it was fucked up. He was dead now, and for what?
Running my hands through my hair, I sighed in frustration. When I was alone, it all haunted me. Came back to me. Reminding me how deep I’d gotten in this world. The one my mom had wanted to save me from, yet my father had cemented me in it. There was no going back. Not anymore. I was in this for life. Just like my dad and his dad, who had died because of it when my dad was only fifteen years old.
I started to make my way to the shower when my cell rang. Turning, I went back to pick it up from where I had left it on my desk. The screen said Blocked, and I paused for a moment before answering. I should probably trace this, but I wasn’t sure where I could set that up quickly.
“Hello?” I said into the phone, my body tense as I gripped the cell phone.
“Wilder Jones.” The voice was being distorted with software made for that sort of thing.
I began walking toward the room hidden in my closet, the door locked.
“You took something of mine, and I want him returned. You have three hours before everyone you love is taken from you.”
I froze as my heart slammed against my chest. Sarah. She was at school. Fuck!
“I don’t have anyone. Who are you wanting returned,” I replied, putting in the code to unlock the door as my hands trembled. I had to get to Sarah. But I needed his fucking location.
“Yes, you do. He’s about five-eleven, dark hair, dark eyes. You and the rest of that fucking squad of yours took him. You all will wish you’d never touched a hair on his head if he isn’t handed over to me.”
My blood ran cold in my body. The man he wanted was dead. His torture was the one I couldn’t get out of my head. I’d been there. I had witnessed it. I’d listened to his cries. There was no way we could hand him over. All that was left of his body were pieces tossed into the ocean, and by now, they’d been eaten by sharks.
“Where do you want him brought if I find him?” I wasn’t going to fucking find him but I had to figure out where he was.
“The house you still own in Madison,” he drawled slowly.
“I’m five hours away. I need more than three hours.”
“Fine. I’ll make it four. But you need to hurry because I’m real close to that sexy-as-fuck piece of ass you are so fond of. She might decide to go somewhere soon, and I can’t stop what happens when she turns that key in her car.”
The line went dead.
Fucking hell. Oakley’s car. Motherfucker!
Slamming my phone against the wall, I made sure it broke into several pieces, then fell to the floor. There would be a tracer on it. They’d kept me on the phone long enough to set that up.
Jerking the door open to my hidden room, I grabbed two unused burner phones and stuffed one into my pocket, and then I broke into a run as I dialed Blaise Hughes’s cell.