Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“But you did.”
“I did.” Carson shakes his head. "I kept trying to get them to do something," he says. “Anything. When they didn't, I decided I would. Every time I found new information or got closer to figuring out what the hell was going on, I’d turn it in, hoping they would jump in at some point.”
“Surprised you didn’t just do it on your own.”
"I contemplated it, but I refused to allow my pride or ego to interfere. That it wouldn’t help the people who were missing. I knew I had to help in whatever way I could to figure out what the hell was going on and maybe save a few of them. One day the FBI finally bit. I guess they were impressed with what I’d found on my own. The rest is history.”
“Did you find them?”
He nods, keeping his eyes on the road. “Just not in time.” Grief coats his words, and he swallows hard.
From the way his jaw goes tight, his body filled with tension, there’s still pain from his past. I don't believe they were all just some neighborhood kids. At least one of them meant something to Carson. This wasn’t just a teenage lark or a job. It was personal.
17
CARSON
Inever talk about Trent. It’s one thing I’ve never been able to work through or get past, so it’s best left alone. But somehow, May manages to dig just deep enough to expose the wound. She may be intuitive when it comes to animals, but she has a good sense for people, too. Or perhaps it’s just me. Sometimes when she looks at me, I feel like she’s reading me like the page of a book. It’s both terrifying and refreshing. To be seen, truly seen.
“Jersey doesn’t look like I thought it would,” she says lightly, clearly changing the subject. Like I said, she notices too much, like my reaction to her questions about my old neighborhood.
I silently thank her. I’m not ready for that conversation. Not yet. Not when it’s still raw, even all these years later. “What did you think it would look like?”
“I saw these old rerun episodes of a show about living in New Jersey. They were all really tan people and lived on a beach and had the brightest, whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. And they were always working out and partying.” She wrinkles her nose at the industrial surroundings–shipping containers and train lines.
My nerves fade, and a smile pulls at my lips. “You mean Jersey Shore?”
“Yes!” She nods. “That was what it was called.”
“Yeah, we’re not in that part of Jersey.”
“Oh. That makes sense, I guess. I just thought it was sort of the vibe around here.”
“The gym, tan, and laundry is definitely a vibe for all of Jersey, but mostly for college kids or twenty-somethings who have a lot of growing up to do.”
She shrugs. “They seemed to have fun. Lots of drama.”
“You like shows with drama?”
“Oh, yes.” She turns to me. “I like to see how people react. It helps me figure them out.”
“I was just thinking that you seem to have me figured out completely. No stone left unturned.”
“Really?” She smiles big, her cheeks going pink.
“Yep. Maybe I was a cat in my last life.”
“You definitely have some tortitude when people don’t do what you think they should.”
“Tortitude?” I shake my head.
“Tortie cats are like an even spicier version of Mousey–”
I blow out a harsh breath. “Spicier than her? I don’t believe it.”
She nods earnestly. “Oh yes, they get really pissy if you don’t do things their way. Very exacting, and my heavens, the mouths on them. They’ve said some things that I’ve had to google, and then I wiped my search history from sheer mortification.”
“So I’m like a tortie?” I ask.
“Yes. But you’re also like a Maine Coon,” she says thoughtfully as I turn into the pet store parking lot.
“The gigantic ones you told me about?” I tease.
“Yep. They’re sort of like cat hardware with dog software. Very intelligent, loyal, sort of a nanny cat–they take care of everyone. Nosy, strong, and strong-willed, too.”
“Now that sounds more like me.”
She giggles. “But they have cattitude, too. So don’t think you’re off the spicy hook.”
“Any other breeds I need to know about?” I ask.
“All of them. We can have daily lessons.”
I lean toward her, my lips grazing hers. “You teach the daytime lessons. I’ll instruct at night.”
Her eyes widen, and I kiss her, tasting her again, knowing I can’t get enough. Her tongue strokes against mine, and she turns her head so I can go deeper. She grips my shirt, hanging on to me as I lean into her more, taking up her space, filling her senses with how delicious we are like this.
When I finally let her come up for air, her eyes have that sexy dazed look.