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)
"We're still trying to figure out who knifed you, but it's very likely it wasn't even connected to Wilkinson."
I nod my head, knowing he's probably right.
I could've easily been stabbed at random by an angry man or someone who wanted to cause a diversion so they could do something else, only I didn't scream and make a scene like a lot of people probably would. There were no police sirens or an ambulance to draw attention away, but I do know I will never forget that man's face.
"Ace did mention having a forensic artist swing by so you can describe the guy and see if it's someone we recognize," Jericho says as he lifts his beer bottle, taking a swig before he stands from the table.
He drops the empty bottle in the trash before walking out of the room. As much as I claimed to like the silence before, I know I can't stay up here when she's so damn close to me. I have no clue how I'll ever be able to walk away from her. I ache when she's not around. My body knows she's somehow a part of me, and it knew on day one, long before she ever spoke or aimed that beautiful smile in my direction.
I know giving her up is going to leave a hole all the way through me, but I don't see any other way.
Chapter 26
Zara
Maybe I'm losing my mind, going a little crazy from not sleeping for such a long period of time, but I've sensed someone on the other side of the door every second since he left me in here alone.
I dart my eyes around the room, wondering if the sensation is coming from a hidden camera, but I don't see anything that could possibly hold one, not that I know a damn thing about surveillance.
The sound of the lock clicking free makes my heart rate triple, and it says a lot about me when I see him step inside and the sight of him calms me. I shouldn't feel safe or at ease around him. I let myself believe that the second he woke up, he'd get me out of here. In my mind, he would burn down the world, and plow through anyone that got in his way to keep me safe, but he hasn't done anything like that. He sat and stared at me and then walked out, locking me in this room just like the other two men did.
Actions speak louder than words, Zara. Didn't you learn that a long time ago?
He doesn't make direct eye contact with me as he walks slowly toward the chair he was sitting in earlier, and that's the exact opposite of how he normally acts. Every other time he's been around me, he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off me.
A chill rushes down my spine, something I should've felt all along, but I let my heart convince me that caring for him meant he cared for me. It's a mistake that could possibly cost me my life.
"Please," I whisper, but it's still not enough to pull his gaze from his hands.
My chin trembles as I do my best not to sob.
The man could look me right in the eye when he was fucking me, but he decides now, when my life may be on the line, that I don't deserve his full attention?
Anger begins to swirl inside of me, replacing the fear, and although I know it's probably a mistake, I can't stop the way it makes me stand a little taller, grow a little bolder.
"Look at me!" I snap, but still, his eyes remain downcast. "How dare you keep me here against my will. I don't deserve this."
The only reaction I get is his jaw flexing, the muscles clenching as if I'm annoying him.
But maybe I'm not. Maybe he's in an impossible situation. Maybe he doesn't want to be here. Maybe he does care about me, and he hates the fact that he'll have to do anything to me at all.
But what are the chances of that?
I don't know this man. Other than great sex, what has he revealed to me?
Nothing.
Even the name he gave to me is a lie.
That anger that was simmering bubbles over.
"Who the fuck are you?" I yell, pacing back and forth in front of him, as if he's the one trapped down here and I'm calling the shots. "Your name isn't Owen. I know that for damned sure."
He doesn't respond and it makes me even angrier, my pulse pounding in my ears, wondering just how far I can push the man before he pushes back.
"Why did you lie about your nephew? I saw the soap stones in the trash. Do you even have a nephew?"
He shifts his weight on the chair, and although it's infuriating, I know his silence could easily be an interrogation tactic that he's using on me. What the hell do I know about any of this? I've never been a prisoner before, despite the ten years I was trapped in a loveless marriage.