Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
If he pushed her now, she’d be gone, and then he’d have to track her down to keep her safe.
So he took a careful step away from the doorway, clearing a path for her to escape. “I don’t expect you to understand.” How could she? Even with the bullshit that came from being raised in a mob family, the woman had led a pampered life overall. It had been touched by the barest fingers of tragedy when her brother died last year, but what was one death compared to familial genocide?
One doesn’t make the other okay. He didn’t know what to think of the fact that it was her voice he heard, his long-forgotten conscience deciding to find itself now.
“I do understand.”
He froze, his gaze flying to her face, taking in the steely glint in her dark eyes, the barely contained fury in her body. “What?”
“I know what it’s like to want them dead—the ones who hurt you. But the difference is that I left it all behind instead of letting vengeance consume me.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, not meeting his gaze. “Maybe you should consider it. Though if you’re willing to kill a pregnant woman, I don’t know that you can be reasoned with. Some things are unforgivable, Jude.” And then she was gone, striding through the door, her shoulders back and her spine straight.
Callista Sheridan is pregnant.
The knowledge rocked him back on his heels. Jude stared blankly after Sloan, trying to process the knowledge, but his brain kept offering up a picture of his mother. She’d been pregnant and wouldn’t have escaped the slaughter if Colm Sheridan had known. Rationally, he knew his mother and Callista weren’t the same.
But he couldn’t shake the comparison.
Killing her would make him worse than Colm Sheridan had ever been.
Jude moved to the window and looked out across the beach. The incoming storm had created a false twilight, leaving shadows where there’d been sunlight before. There was a chill in the late afternoon air that had driven people inside. With the knowledge of Sloan’s parting shot riding him hard, he welcomed it.
He needed time and space to plan. To think. That had always been his strength—to detach himself from any situation and to implement a strategy guaranteed to succeed. In all the years since he’d started down this path, he’d never had a problem taking that first step back.
But that was before Sloan.
Before his perfect plan had blown up in his face.
It was easier to focus on her and their present situation than whatever the hell he was supposed to do about the future. How the fuck was he supposed to stay calm and rational when she was marching out across the sand, without a weapon on her, alone? He moved before he made a decision to, throwing open the door and following her.
It didn’t take long to catch up to her. She’d stopped just short of the waterline, her head tilted back and her hair whipping in the wind. She looked…Fuck, he didn’t know. She looked like some kind of fey creature who’d wandered into their world by mistake. It made him hesitant to break the silence—what there was of it against the crash of the waves and the wind picking up to nearly a howl.
Storm will be here faster than I thought.
He wasn’t superstitious by nature, but he’d have been a fool to think of the impending storm as anything other than a sign. “Sloan.” He barely raised his voice, but she heard him all the same.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
He started to argue but reconsidered. The woman had had everything she thought was true shaken down to the roots in the last hour. She needed time to process that. He could respect it. He glanced up and down the beach, searching for threats, but it was impossible. The sand was far from perfectly flat, and any hit man worth his salt could dig in a little bit and become nearly invisible in the twilight. “Then don’t talk to me while you’re in the house with the shades shut. It’s not safe.”
“It’s not safe.” She did a fair job of mocking his deep voice. Sloan spun on him, her eyes as wild as he’d ever seen them. “And whose fault is that, Jude? What else did you lie about?” Her voice caught, but she charged on. “I was safe here before you looked into me, leading us directly into Dmitri Romanov’s web. Do you know what he does to his enemies?”
“Probably better than you do.” The man was ruthless to a clinical degree, but he seemed to keep his word. It was more than Jude could say for others in the underground world.
“Of course you do—because you’re a stone-cold killer.” She moved closer, pushing him with both hands. He let himself fall back a step because otherwise she might shove herself back and land on her ass. Sloan closed the distance between them, fury written over her face. “Are you going to kill me, Jude? It would hurt the Sheridans, and that’s all you care about, isn’t it? Your goddamn revenge.”