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)
“I thought you were dead. I got there in time, and I was determined to keep you alive.”
She tilted her head to the side, and her hair fell over her shoulder. “Just think … you almost got rid of me.”
I knew she was teasing and trying to lighten the mood, but she was way off. That shit wasn’t funny.
“I don’t want to get rid of you.”
She smirked. “Yeah, you do. You just don’t want Sarah to lose someone she loves. That’s why I’m alive.”
My empty hand fisted, and I set down the can on the bar with a hard thud. “No, Oakley, I don’t. Would it be fucking easier if I felt that way? Yeah. But I don’t. I can’t imagine a fucking world without you in it, and I don’t want to.” The words came out angry, and they said more than I wanted to admit, but she’d pushed me.
I hated that she thought I wished she were dead. That her life meant nothing to me. Especially when those blue eyes told me she still felt something for me. She had never been good at hiding it.
The door opened, and I tore my eyes off her and looked at Thatcher as he walked inside. I waited while he made his way inside the lit area of the safe house. When he got close enough, he held up his hand, and Oakley’s phone lay flat in his palm.
“I need you to make a call,” he said to her.
“Has it been stripped?” I asked him, not liking that he’d brought her phone in here.
He shifted his eyes to me. “Do I look fucking stupid?”
I deserved that, but, damn, today had me on edge.
Oakley stood up. “My phone,” she said, walking toward him.
“Yeah.” He nodded at me. “Do your thing.”
I left my beer on the bar and went to take her phone, then headed to the computer. We had to use the satellite to get any reception in here for it, and then I had to add the tracer to it. Make sure whoever she was about to call could be tracked.
“You gonna tell me why we are using Oakley?” I asked him.
I knew there had to be a reason, just like I knew I had to obey. This wasn’t a request. Oakley was somehow connected even if she didn’t know it.
“Yeah, she’s dating someone of interest.”
I froze, then turned to look at her.
The look of confusion on her face as she stared at Thatcher told me she had no idea what he was talking about. “Hamilton?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “If that’s his real name.”
“How do we know?” I probed.
“The number in her phone that he has called and texted her from is the same number that we were able to trace from the call that I received.”
“Motherfucker!” I roared, gripping the edge of the desk before swinging my eyes to Oakley. “When did you make plans for tonight?”
Her eyes were wide and panicked. “Today. Not long before you showed up. I … I was drying my hair, and I turned off the hair dryer. My phone rang. It was Hamilton. He asked me out.” She shook her head. “It can’t be him. That makes no sense.”
“What all did he say to you?” I demanded.
There had to be something there. If he’d set a fucking bomb in her car, then he had a plan.
“He … he said …” she stammered. “Uh, well, he asked if I wanted to go to dinner and a movie. I said yes. Then, he asked what I was doing. I told him I was working. No, wait. I said I was getting ready to go grocery shopping. He said to finish my work at the house and then he’d come get me early and take me to the grocery store. I thought it was an odd request, but I said okay.”
I felt Thatcher’s gaze on me then. I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on her. Looking for any sign or suggestion that she knew something. The memory of the liar that she had once been was in the back of my head, reminding me how good she was at it. Could she be that good of an actress though? Nothing gave her away. Not one small sign that she was keeping something from me. All I saw was fear, disbelief, horror, reflected in her eyes.
“When he said he’d take you to the grocery store, did he say anything else? Like not to leave the house? Anything?” Thatcher pressed.
She shook her head. “He … he made me promise that I’d wait for him, but that’s it.”
Did Thatcher see something I was missing? Was my fucking connection to her, which I couldn’t seem to sever, keeping me blinded to a truth she was hiding?
“He was never gonna hurt her,” Thatcher said finally.