Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I swallow, unable to even say anything at this point. My pulse thumps hard in my chest, and all I can see are brutal images of Tor beaten and bloodied, crying and begging for me to stop, and my stomach knots.
I watch him climb into his truck and back out of the drive. I pick up the bag. “Fuck!” I shout as I open the door to the house. I walk into the living room and Caleb tosses his head back over the couch to look at me. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
I shoot an angry glare at him and toss the sack on the table. “Oh, I don’t know, Caleb. Maybe I’m fucking pissed because I’ve been set up, and I’ve got a possible bug locked up in my goddamn bedroom?”
I watch his eyes glaze over, his face growing pale. “She’s not a bug...” He swallows.
“You don’t know that. We’ve gotta be sure.”
His jaw tightens. “She’s just a girl. I swear, she’s got nothing to do with Joe. Are you losing your mind? Are you that paranoid?”
“You spent three days locked in a room with her, and you think you know her. You don’t know the first fucking thing about her.” I groan, frustrated at the situation. “She spins you a few lines, bats her eyelashes, and that's it, you believe every word that comes out of her mouth. It’s too much of a coincidence. She’s too much of a risk.”
Caleb jumps from the couch and stomps toward me. His face blood-fucking-red, his eyes narrowed. He’s fucking angry. “You’re not gonna kill her!”
I drag a hand through my hair and cock a brow. “I’m running out of choices here, Caleb. If she works for Joe and I let her go, we’re fucked. So, I either kill her now just in case, or I prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s innocent.”
Caleb falls back onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. “What are you gonna do to her?” It’s evident by his tone that the thought of harming her makes him sick too.
I inhale. “Whatever it takes to make me believe she’s innocent...or not. It’s her or us.”
”Fuck, Jude.” Caleb’s head is still bowed. I think he can’t stand to look at me right now.
“And you’re gonna have to help me.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a question. You will help me. You’re the only person here that’s not a fucking monster.”
His eyes rise to meet mine, and they are angry. “I won’t hurt her.”
“I know. That’s why I need you. It’s your job to make sure I don’t kill her.”
I wake up to the sound of the lock clicking. I open my eyes and watch the door swing back, throwing light across from the room.
Jude’s enormous frame is silhouetted in the doorway before the door closes, blocking out the light once more. I hear him kick off his boots and the rustle of clothing as he undresses. Then I feel his weight dip the mattress. I go rigid as I feel the heat of his body near mine. I can smell the scent of whiskey and cigarettes that is all Jude. I shouldn’t like it, but, weirdly, I do. He barely seems to notice my presence as he rolls over. His breathing evens out and within a few minutes, he’s out cold. I lay there, every muscle in my body tense as I stare at the ceiling.
I move my hand underneath my pillow, my fingers curling around the plastic handle of the razor. I eye the door. I didn’t hear him lock it. This should be easy. Just slit his throat and run. Fuck! If only. Can I really kill a guy in cold blood? He’d do the same to me given half the chance, but what if I get caught? What if I don’t kill him and just hurt him? My chest starts to tighten, and my pulse hammers in my veins as adrenaline floods my system. If he catches me, he will kill me. Honestly, I would rather die fighting than just take this like some pathetic victim. I need to do this.
I pull the razor from under the pillow and slowly sit up, trying to make as little noise as possible. The bed creaks slightly as I move. I stare at Jude led on his back, one arm thrown over his head. I can just make him out in the darkness. His chest is bare, the broad muscles rising and falling steadily. My eyes trace the lines of ink that wind across his chest and down his arm. He’s power personified, and although he terrifies me, I’d be lying if I said that there isn’t a part of me that is in awe of that power. He exudes it with every breath, every small action; he lives and breathes it.