Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
"Worrying about you isn't being crazy, Lena," he finally mutters. The protectiveness in his tone is evident. It also drives me nuts.
I know he and my grandfather mean well. We're billionaires. I'm too trusting. It's a dangerous world. Yadda yadda yadda. I've heard it all before. But at some point, they have to loosen the reins and let me breathe.
"Maybe not from your perspective, but from mine, it's Crazyville, and you're the mayor," I say, only slightly teasing. "You can't just track me down like I'm a fugitive every time I decide to live a little. It's ridiculous."
"And running away, isn't?"
"I didn't run away. I took a vacation," I mutter defensively. Maybe I snuck out, but I wouldn't have had to do that if they wouldn't try to send security with me every single time I leave the house. "Which I wouldn't have had to do if you and Grandfather could learn to get along."
"We get along."
I snort like a crazy person.
"We do." He pauses. "Most of the time. But he can't just fucking dictate my life to me and expect me to obey."
"Well, if it isn't the pot complaining about the kettle," I say sweetly. "You're doing the exact same thing to me right now, Dalton."
Silence stretches between us. For a moment, I worry I might have pushed too far and hurt his feelings. My mouth tends to run away with me sometimes. And Dalton has always meant well. He's my rock and my best friend. I don't want to upset him. I just want him to stop bugging me for five minutes.
"Point taken," he finally growls. "I'll leave you wherever the fuck you are right now." He pauses. "If you tell me where you are."
"You swear you won't try to come here?"
"Yes," he growls.
"And you won't send anyone here?"
"I swear, Lena."
My heart leaps, excitement firing through me. He never goes back on his word. "I rented a cabin in the mountains," I say.
"Where?"
"In the mountains near Oak Ridge."
"I want an address, baby cousin."
"No way," I say. "I told you where I am. I never agreed to give you the address."
"Fine," he sighs. "But I swear to God, Lena, if you come home and only one of us is still alive, I'm blaming you."
"You can't kill him, Dalton," I say with a soft laugh. "You do actually love him."
"Oh, I'm not thinking about taking him out," he grumbles. "I'm more concerned with him taking me out. The old man is fucking merciless."
"He loves you."
Dalton sighs again as if he isn't sure that's true. "Behave, baby cousin. And call me or I will hunt you down like—what was it you said? Oh, right. A fugitive."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too, little bird," he growls, using the nickname Gramps gave me when I was a little girl. "Now hang up before I change my mind."
I laugh quietly, hanging up before he can spout off any more threats. Taking a deep breath, I glance around at the cabin once again.
Honestly, I don't know what he's so worried about. It's not like there's much trouble for me to find way out here on my own.
Chapter Two
Carver
"Son of a bitch," I curse under my breath as my truck bounces through yet another pothole on the narrow lane leading to my cabin. If I hit one more of the fucking things, I may never have kids. My balls already ache like a motherfucker.
I lean forward to peer out of the windshield, but trees press so close to the truck, I can't tell if I'm nearly to the end of the old lane or not.
It'll be the first damn thing I fix come daylight. But it's after ten at night, and I'm exhausted after a hell of a trip from base in Washington. The potholes will have to wait until I get some sleep.
If I manage that. It doesn't come easy anymore. I've spent the last twenty years of my life in the military, dragging my ass to every hellhole on this side of creation. My last mission was the worst.
I barely made it out in one piece…and I was one of the few lucky ones. We lost far too goddamn many men, and it still haunts me. I'm not sure it'll ever stop at this point.
I turned in my paperwork as soon as I was stateside. That was almost six months ago. I've been through all the fucking therapy, but I still feel stretched thin, as if my goddamn skin is too tight over my bones. I still hear their screams at night.
All I want is some peace and quiet, which is why I bought the damn cabin at auction. It's in the middle of nowhere in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. Fresh air, wide open spaces, and no goddamn neighbors. The perfect place to get lost while I deal with my shit.