Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“I’m where I live,” she said eventually.
“Me, too.”
“And where’s that?”
Suddenly, he pictured the yellow Colonial up at street level, and the whole development of tidy houses. The staircase down underground. The promenade that brought him to this residence.
“Nowhere special.” Just the First Family’s sacred address, guarded by the Brotherhood. “You?”
“Same.”
He had to laugh. “Well, I think I am going to imagine you…”
“Where.” She sighed and there was a rustling as if she were moving around. “Where do you see me?”
“Hmmm. Let me think.” There was more shifting, and then a thump thump. “Are those your shoes? Boots, I mean?”
That chuckle of hers came again and made him see her smiling, a flush warming his skin under his clothes.
“Yup, those are boots. It’s been a long night, and it’s time for me to”—she grunted softly—“stretch out.”
“I’m lying on my bed, too.” He sat up in a rush. “Not in a weird way, though. Like, I didn’t call you because I was naked and expecting—”
“Don’t worry. I know you’re too much of a gentlemale for that.”
He nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “I am. I swear.”
Or parts of him were. Oh, God. The double-life crap was killing him. Literally.
As he lay back down and fell silent, the quiet between them became as the contours of the room in the shadows, infinite, uncontaining, until he thought that they were both floating in the darkness.
“Is your light on?” he asked. “If you have one by your bed?”
“No, I’m in the dark.”
“Me, too.”
Allhan curled over onto his side, and put the phone under his ear. Closing his eyes, he listened to her soft breathing and thought that it was precious. She was precious. And not just because she was beautiful, and mysterious because she was a stranger, and…
Well, and also not because she was one hell of a kisser.
No, in this moment, she was precious because she dimmed the screaming in his head. For all the things that were eating him alive, she was powerful enough to calm the storm and settle his inner waters.
He had started his journey to this hell he had created driven by so many emotions: Anger, revenge, the need to protect his sister. And things had only gotten darker.
But in this silence, he found a measure of something he had never known.
Peace.
* * *
Denne knew she had to get off the phone. She had no right to encourage this male, not with everything that was going on for her. She needed to tell him that she was sorry to have led him on, that she was not right in the head, and that she wished him a good life.
Then she was going to kill the call, block him, and go to sleep.
So she’d be bright and fucking cheerful when she checked in at Sal’s at five—
“What do you do for work?” she asked.
Fuck.
“IT. Information technology, that is—but I’m sure you know what the initials stand for.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do this.”
“Talk? You’re doing a pretty good job of it.”
“I’m nervous. Which is not a great look when you’re a guy trying to…”
“Trying to do what?” She heard her own voice get lower. Not in volume, tone. “What are you trying to do, Al?”
It was amazing how a person could tear in two and still remain in one piece: Half of her was all no-contact-no-involvement for so many reasons, but a deeper part of her was searching for exactly the kind of pull she felt now.
Unlike with everything else going on in her life… she wanted to be on this phone. She wanted to talk to him.
Al was signal, when she was surrounded by noise.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I want to impress you and I wish I had game. I should have paid more attention to the experts when I had the chance at the club.”
She thought about what he’d told her earlier, about the males who had been killed. And she found herself wanting to know more, and not because she was morbidly curious. She wanted to help in some way. But that was not the kind of thing you threw into a phone call. Not unless you wanted to blow it up—also, what if Al got upset? He could hang up and she wouldn’t know whether he was okay.
For some reason, she couldn’t live with that.
“Game is overrated, Al.”
That was when the sideways arrived. One moment, she was coloring inside the lines, recognizing that she was where she was, and he was a normal guy who deserved so much more than being led on by the likes of her. The next, she was remembering the feel of his lips against her own, so tentative—until he got the hang of it.
And fuck, he was a quick learner.
“What do you do at Sal’s?” he asked.