Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Jude studied me. “They’re bombproof, Saylor. I mean, I understand your father wanting you safe. You’re his daughter. Parents want to protect their kids. But bombproof?”
He paused briefly. I said nothing.
“Your car. It wasn’t totaled. I went to see how the Baptist church had fared since they’re basically our neighbors. I talked to the pastor there, and he was telling me what all they had seen. He and some of his staff had been inside, riding it out like we had. Seems there was a pearl-colored Bentley that he saw thrown from down the street. It hit the power pole that took out everyone’s electricity and landed on its hood, and when they came to get it, some paint scratches were the only damage.”
Dammit, Dad!
I liked my Bentley. We could have gotten another paint job. Why had they lied to me about it?
“What is it you want me to tell you?” I asked him, shrugging. “My dad has the money to be ridiculously overprotective. It’s been like this my entire life. It can be suffocating.”
Jude took a step toward me. “If he’s so protective, then why didn’t one of the family members who showed up here to get you yesterday take a swing at me? Threaten me? Because they knew. I could see it on all their faces.”
I licked my lips and stared at one of the stupid windows. “It isn’t my virtue that they are protecting. It’s my life. I was with Crosby since I hit puberty. They know I’m not a virgin.”
“Which leads me back to bombproof windows and a car that survived a F3 tornado with just a couple of scratches. The other cars on this street had no windows. Frames were twisted. Doors ripped off.”
Should I tell him? Just be honest?
He was going to find out eventually. My last name was going to be brought up to someone, and they’d know.
Why wait?
Because he might not be able to live with it. What you have of him right now is already fragile. He’s a priest, and you are the reason he is breaking his vows.
“Saylor, what are you not telling me? I need to know. I’m the priest, and you are basically working for me. It’s volunteer work, yes, but it is still me trusting you to work under the church’s missions. If you are keeping something from me that could come out and cause a problem, I need to know. I’m already doing things because of you.” He stopped.
I stared at him. Doing things because of you. Not with you. Because of you.
His words last night had been a lie too. He was also a liar. He did blame me. I was his temptation, and he saw me as just that. He’d never feel more for me. He couldn’t love me. We couldn’t date. Have a relationship. This had been finger-fucking in a dark closet. And phone sex.
I was setting myself up for a heartbreak I feared would hit me in a way Crosby’s hadn’t. Because I felt more with Jude than I had with a boy I had known my entire life. Falling in love with an unavailable man—that would be a sorrow I couldn’t move past.
“Fine,” I said, meeting his eyes as they stayed locked on me, waiting. “My father is Gannon Rice. That doesn’t mean anything to you because you’re not from around here. But to most locals, it does. Just like if I introduced Gathe Bowen to someone local who had grown up here, they’d recognize him. They might not know the full truth, but they have all heard the rumors. The Rices, Bowens, Carvers, Cashes, Savelles—those five families own just about every square foot of this town. In fact, the only buildings they don’t own that aren’t houses are the churches.”
I paused and dropped my arms at my sides. His full attention was on me.
“The Rices—we came first. In 1912, my great-great-great-grandfather, Hiram Rice, moved to Madison, Mississippi, from Ocala, Florida, on the orders of Jediah Hughes to take over speakeasies, along with illegal gambling and moonshine, here and in Jackson. You see, Jediah Hughes wasn’t just his friend, but also his boss. The first boss. The man who began what is now known as the family to those within it, but the Southern Mafia to everyone else.”
I watched him for a reaction. All I saw was his jaw tic. That could mean a lot of things. Jude was good at masking his real feelings.
“The oldest son born to the Rices took over running the Mississippi branch of the family. Until this generation. Dad had two daughters, and females in the family are protected, treated like fragile treasures who can’t do what the men do. It annoys the hell out of me. Anyway, Dad’s Parkinson’s got so bad that he had to step down, and Linc Shephard, who had been in the Ocala main branch, was sent to run this branch until the oldest Cash son, Bane, was ready to step in and take over. His father hadn’t been given the position because he’d been under my dad’s command for too long and Bane’s dad felt it was disrespectful to assume a position over my dad.” I let out a heavy sigh.