Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“I'll light a fire under her.” I have no doubt she understands how crucial it is to leave now. If I were in her shoes, I'd be packed and out the door by now. This is not the time for her stubbornness.
“Tatum! Let's go!” Her bedroom door is open, and I hear the argument going on inside as I approach. “What is taking you so long?” I demand, entering the room.
“I'm not leaving without her.”
Craig scratches his head, groaning. “I don't know if you can keep it safe. It's better to leave something important like that here for now.”
He reaches for her, and she jerks herself away. “I'll cut your fucking hands off.”
“What the hell is going on?” I bark, startling them both. “We don't have time for this, Tatum.”
She whirls on me, holding Amanda's urn, clutching it to her chest like a shield. “I'm bringing this.”
For fuck's sake. Nobody has ever less deserved this level of devotion.
My jaw aches from the effort of grinding my teeth. “Honey. He's right. What if something happened to it? It's safer to leave it here. And it isn't like you'll never return.”
I shouldn't be surprised when she barks out a disbelieving laugh. “How do you know? There's no such thing as protection.”
I need this like I need a hole in the head. “Fine,” I grit through my teeth. “Take it with you.” The moment Craig grimaces, the look I give him clears it up on the spot. This is not the time for him to be squeamish.
“Where am I going?” she asks, trotting beside me down the hall. With her bag slung over one shoulder and Amanda's ashes still clutched like a teddy bear, she's never looked so much like a little girl. A lost, confused little girl.
“Romero will take care of everything.” At a time like this, I hate to lose him. However, there is no one else I trust more guarding my daughter. “Just do me a favor and go along with what he says. No arguing.”
Romero's still on the phone. He looks her up and down—no reaction to the urn—before jerking his head toward the courtyard. “Go wait in the car. I'll be out in a minute.”
“Is this really necessary? What, are they going to bomb the house again?”
“Listen to me.” I grab her by the shoulders and even shake her a little because, damn it, I need her to understand. “I can't do what I need to do if I'm worried about you being here. I don't know what their next move is, that's the problem. Having you safely tucked away somewhere is the only way I can focus on what needs to be done. Do you understand? I don't ask much from you, but I need you to do as Romero says. Get in the car, and we'll talk it out once you come home.”
Her angry snarl drops away before her chin starts to tremble. “I'm afraid for you. I don't want to leave you.”
“I know.” It's a struggle to stay calm for her sake when what I want is to push her out the door. “It's not easy for me to send you away, either. I need to trust that things will be alright—and they will. You have to believe I'm doing this for the right reason. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” she decides, squaring her shoulders. “Can you do something for me?”
“What would that be?”
“Kill them.”
“That's my plan.” Satisfied, she finally follows Romero's orders, walking out the door with her head held high.
Now that she's out of the way, my thoughts return to Dominic and Jack. Sebastian has been wrong about many things but made a good point earlier. We're lucky they are both a couple of fuck ups. That bomb could easily have destroyed the house, and all of us with it.
Couldn't it?
“I'll stay in contact,” Romero promises. “The minute I hear anything, you'll be the first to know.”
I hardly hear him over the thundering in my ears. Something's wrong with all of this. We've been too busy reacting in a panic to step back and look at the entire situation. “It didn't do much damage, did it?”
“What are you saying?”
Looking around at the cracked plaster and broken glass, I murmur, “It didn't do as much damage as it could have, the bomb.”
“Yeah, and good thing.”
He's practically halfway out the door before I grab hold of him, forcing him to listen. “You're not hearing me.”
“Alright, alright. What are you thinking?”
“One thing about this doesn't make sense.” I walk up and down the hall, toward the stairs, toward the kitchen, following the path of the damage. “There's not an impressive radius to the damage. Did you notice that?”
“I haven't had time to pull out my tape measure just yet.”
“Listen to me. Hear what I'm saying. The bomb wasn't very powerful.” He's still looking at me like I've grown two heads. I wouldn't normally have to explain myself like this, but this is hardly a normal situation. “A powerful bomb could have torn this place to shreds. It didn't.”