Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
"And you plan to keep her locked in a fucking room forever?"
He takes a step back, and I feel the relief of it instantly. Ace would be a formidable opponent when I'm in full-fighting shape. Right now? He'd probably be able to beat my ass with a hand tied behind his back. That realization doesn't sit well with me. How can I defend her if I can't even fight off the men who are least likely to hurt her?
"I plan to keep her as long as I need to in order to get the information I need."
It's a sound argument, one I'd probably agree to if it weren't for the connection I feel with the woman.
"Stay out of that fucking room," I snap as I sidestep him and begin the struggle back up the stairs.
I can tell he's waiting patiently for me to clear the top step before he makes the climb himself, probably because he's worried I'll fall back and roll over him. But when he comes out from the basement level, he detours toward the front door.
I have no idea what sort of position he's in with ICE and what their expectations are for him, but he's not my concern. At this point, even Tommy-fucking-Wilkinson isn't my concern. The woman locked away downstairs is the only thing I can think about right now. Hell, she's been the only thing I can think about for weeks, and if that doesn't prove Ace's point about the trouble I'm in, then I don't know what will.
Jericho is in the kitchen when I enter, and although I expect him to give me the same speech Ace just did downstairs, he remains quiet when I walk toward the refrigerator.
"Has she eaten anything?"
"She threw the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I made her on the floor. She was pissed, but then she picked it back up, put it on the plate, and smiled when she handed it back as she apologized for making a mess," he explains.
"She's afraid we're going to kill her," I mutter.
She didn't tell me as much, but I could see it in her eyes. I have no doubt she thinks I'm dangerous and probably worse than her drug-dealing ex-husband.
His silence makes my skin crawl. We aren't those types of men. She's innocent, despite her lack of being forthcoming about what she knows.
"It takes a certain type of man to keep doing this job, to always walk away from the people you form connections with," Jericho says, sounding more like a therapist than a man who was deep undercover with a notorious sex trafficker for the better part of a year. "It's not a hit to your character that you fell for her."
I open my mouth to deny what he's saying, but it just doesn't feel right. I feel something for Zara. Something I've never felt before. The difference in me should make me happy. I should be ecstatic that my heart isn't as cold and dead as I've always thought it was, but there's no reason to celebrate. He may not see the connection I formed with her as a problem, but I know it is.
I need this job. I need to have something to work toward, something that feeds the darkness in my soul because I don't know who I'll become without it.
"Humans are supposed to crave attention from others," he continues, his eyes cast downward on the beer sitting in front of him. "Being alone and isolated all the time isn't normal."
I know exactly what he's saying, but it was my everyday normal until now. I never had a problem with it, other than the urgency to hunt bad guys.
I can't even picture a life that would look different. I'm not a man who's going to work a nine-to-five and come home in the evenings to a warm meal. I don't want to start a garden and spend my time mowing fucking stripes in my yard. I have to do what I've been doing. I can't let myself want anything different from what I have because I'll just ruin it. It might seem like a good idea, and I'd enjoy the reprieve for a while, but it would never last.
The world needs me to have this job, and I never stuttered with the sacrifices I'm willing to make to help others, until now. I can't be that selfish. Being with her means not doing this, and that's just not an option. It's a hundred percent on me for fucking up, for trying to have something different, even when I knew it would cost me Cerberus.
"I'm going to keep an eye on the bar while you heal," Jericho says in a way that doesn't cut another wound into my skin.
I know it has to be done, but at least he's not taunting me about not being able to get the job done myself.