Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
“Here.”
She took it from his grasp with both hands.
“What’s on here?”
“All of your files from your computer. Your cellphone has also been restored as you probably have seen. I placed your computer by the front door, along with your I.D., passport, wallet and purse. It’s charging. Honey, I know your work for your paper isn’t finished, and you still have other assignments out this way, but as far as this place, my house… you’re free to go.” He sighed, then crossed his arms. “I am aware there’s a high chance you’ll go to the police, and I’ll be arrested tonight. Regardless, I’m sorry for any pain I have caused you.”
And with that, he turned and left the room…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Archer finished writing the letter to Irish and signed it, ‘Love, your big brother, James.’ Then, he slipped it in an envelope and set it aside. He’d get word to his maid once he was in jail to mail it on his behalf in the morning. He glanced at the clock, and decided one last shower and a bit of rest in his bed before the police arrived would be nice. He’d already taken a final tour of the house and made a rather cryptic call to his attorney, just in case the shit hit the fan.
Turning off his computer, he slipped out of his clothing and headed to his master bathroom. When he turned on the shower, the spigot burst with hot water, steaming up the enclosure within seconds. He made quick work of washing his hair and body, then rinsed out the soap.
He savored the feel of everything, relishing his last moments of freedom. After drying off, he walked into his massive walk-in closet and selected a pair of dark blue boxer briefs from the dresser. He turned on some music and poured himself a glass of red wine from his bedroom bar, then slid onto his bed and looked up at the ceiling. Jenevieve’s, ‘Baby Powder’ played in that moment. He clasped his hands together and waited to doze off. His last night of freedom…
Honey clutched the phone like a lifeline as faint music played throughout the house—Jenevieve’s ‘Baby Powder.’ One day he’d asked her to tell him one of her favorite tunes. She’d told him she loved this very song—one he’d never heard of. I guess now he has…
She pressed the 9 on her cellphone.
She pressed the 1…
She paused.
She swallowed. She fought herself. Fought tears. Fought anger. Fought sadness…
She recalled the gospel record her grandmother used to play all the time by Kirk Franklin. ‘A saint is just a sinner who fell down… and got back up…’
I’m no angel. I’ve done my dirt. Told my lies. I’ve had revenge in my heart and acted on it. I killed people with words. Didn’t reach out to give a helping hand out of spite. More times than not, I had no regrets. That’s a flaw, too, I guess. I don’t like that I was the focus of this man’s aggressions, but who else would have been? I was there. Wrong place. Wrong time. Or was it the right place, right time?
I was also there tonight … with HIM.
The person he opened up to. Most of the kind things he did for me he didn’t have to, regardless of the circumstances. He took me to work. He fed me well. Not slop, or the bare minimum. He made sure I was clean and clothed. He didn’t do anything perverted or violate me. Almost everything I wanted, he gave me. He met me at least halfway. He’s just serious about this Bannon situation, and he was serious about my ass being on his property, too…
She knew the ‘why’—but would prison set his ass straight? Would it make any of this right? Would it change a damn thing? Probably not.
Okay, the cops arrest him and he’s charged with kidnapping, endangerment, and whatever else they can slap on there. Then what? What about me? Would I be happier if he were in prison? Not really… Not at all.
She sobbed for far too long and tossed the damn phone on the bed, cradling her head. She hated herself. Not for not calling the law, but for not completely wanting to leave…
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her phone once again and decided to call her best friend. Time to speak to a professional.
“Chasity! Thank God you answered. I—”
“Oh, Honey! Thank God you called!” The woman was a blubbering mess. Crying and carrying on. “I can never repay you enough! I’m still in shock! I was just about to call you again. We haven’t talked in a couple of weeks, and you always rush me off the phone lately, but I knew you were acting strange. Now I know why! I should have known you were up to something! Plotting! Oh my God!” The woman was laughing now, which was the catalyst to a violent coughing fit. Honey waited for her to regain her composure.