Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I’m going to war.
I’m going to kill every Morelli and each man working for them. I’m going to eradicate their organization and flatten everything they’ve built to the ground. I’m going to make damn sure not one of those fuckers can come anywhere near Anya or Claire, and I’m going to destroy what’s left of me in doing so. I fought enough battles to know this one is going to take more than Raphael and his whole gang put together as well as what my men and I have inside us to give. We’re all going to be done for when this fight is over, and before that happens, I’ll have to send Anya away.
She bends down and places a tender kiss on my forehead. It takes every ounce of my willpower and then some not to bracket her head between my palms and hold her to me. Smash my mouth on hers. Taste her. Drink in her essence just to convince myself that this isn’t a bitter-sweet dream but that she’s truly standing at the side of my bed in flesh and bone.
Instead, I lie stiff like a piece of wood, the pain of not touching her ripping me apart. The effect is far more potent than a hand grenade blast. It hurts more than the pieces of my body that are torn from the explosion. I’ve always been defective, a man who can’t give a woman the children she craves, but now I’m damaged. Unfit as a husband and a father. Anya was my second chance, my chance at giving parenthood and family a shot. My lucky charm. But my chances are up, and my luck has run out.
Chapter
Six
Anya
* * *
When I get back to my room, Livy is there.
My throat closes up. I’m so happy to see her that I almost burst into tears, but I have a lot of explaining to do, and I don’t know if she can forgive me.
“Anya,” she says in a compassionate tone, gripping my shoulders but refraining from hugging me.
I appreciate both her consideration for my wound and that she’s calm instead of dramatic. The fact that she doesn’t make a big deal of how we almost died helps me to keep my composure. Not charging at me with accusations, even though I deserve every ounce of her blame, makes me want to weep with guilt and relief. Emotionally, I’m a mess. I don’t even want to think how she feels. If the gray, no-label tracksuit she wears, the ponytail in which she bundled her long hair, and her face that’s scrubbed free of make-up are anything to go by, it’s bad. I’ve never seen her in dull or average clothes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, cupping my stomach where the stitches pull.
“It’s not your fault.” She ushers me to the bed. “You don’t have to apologize.”
I climb onto the step with some difficulty and heave myself onto the mattress, cursing my immobility. “I should’ve told you what Saverio was involved in, but I wanted to protect you.”
She sits down in the chair. “Did you think I didn’t have a clue?” Her expression turns sly. “Honey, I know a made man when I see one. I don’t even need my contact lenses.”
“Really?” I study her with surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It wasn’t my place. Your business is nobody’s business. You would’ve told me if you wanted me to know.”
“But…” I battle to get my head around that. “How did you figure it out? You said Saverio told you his business was software development.”
She laughs. “Do you think my Harvey was a regular suit and office guy? Oh, the suit was in the picture, and not just any old suit. Harvard Jackson knew how to dress, and he filled a tailored three-piece in a way that made a girl’s knees weak and her lady bits tingle. He did own a few businesses, mostly thriving barber shops, but he was no hairdresser or pencil pusher. I never did tell you how he died.”
“How?” I ask, riveted by her story.
“There was a shootout at one of the banks he robbed.”
“Oh, Livy.”
“I told him not to go that day.” She gets a far-off look in her eyes. “I had a feeling that morning, but Harvey kissed me like only he could, making me forget about everything else, and then he left to do the only thing he knew how to do.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m not going to lie and say the danger didn’t do it for me. It was part and parcel of his appeal.”
“But you were a schoolteacher,” I exclaim.
“That was after Harvey. Before that, we were like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“You didn’t rob banks with him, did you?” I ask with my mouth hanging open.
“Of course not. But he always told me about his plans. I felt very much a part of everything. Harvey trusted me like he trusted no one else. Now you know why I never told you about him.”