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)
“Where are you going?”
“I’m incredibly tense and angry right now, and arguing more will accomplish about as much good as beating my head against a brick wall. I’m going to do yoga.” A pang went through her when she realized she’d never do yoga with Jessica again by the ocean. Another life left behind, this one just as bittersweet as Boston. She looked at Jude looming in the doorway. “Please move.”
He stepped aside without a word. Good. She was a fool and a half for thinking Jude would suddenly set aside everything he’d worked for just for her.
I set out planning to be alone. Now I’ll just have to plan to be alone with a baby.
What was she going to do as a single mother?
* * *
Jude changed into a pair of shorts and tennis shoes and went running. He couldn’t stand to be pent up in that house any longer, not with Sloan’s words ringing in his ears. She was asking him to change. No, that wasn’t right. She was very careful about not asking him to change. But she was demanding it of him all the same. He picked up speed, weaving between the trees.
Give up revenge.
Let Colm Sheridan have his happy life while my mother is rotting in the ground.
The thoughts didn’t bring their usual tidal wave of rage. He was…tired. So goddamn tired. The path lay before him, as clear as day. Dmitri Romanov was playing hardball and trying to force his hand in killing the remaining Sheridans. Several months ago, that wouldn’t have bothered him in the least. He would have shown up, killed Colm, and left Callista alive. Simple.
Now it sat like a rock in his gut.
He couldn’t stop seeing Sloan, standing there unflinching in the face of his sins. She understood him. She…Fuck, he didn’t know. He’d been telling the truth when he said that they would be hunted if it was found out that she was pregnant with his child.
But she was right, too, in a way. No one knew he was responsible for Ronan’s death. Sorcha might suspect what he was about, but she couldn’t confirm it—and she had more important things to worry about if Callista was half as ruthless as Sloan claimed. He could leave, could take Sloan and their baby and…What? He couldn’t settle down in one place indefinitely. The thought made him feel like he was drowning, the sheer number of future years in the same place a weight on his head pushing him under. That wasn’t him. Kids needed stability, though. He didn’t know much about them, but he knew that.
It just didn’t fit.
If he had half a brain in his head, he’d write her a check and leave. It’d be the best thing he could do for that kid. Sloan was strong. She’d be okay.
Fuck that.
It might be the most selfish thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t let them go. They were his. He’d never let anyone close enough to be his, not since his mother went the way of the angels. Who was to say they had to figure out all the dirty details now? He’d tell Sloan that he was in. He had to go to Boston to deal with Romanov’s threat, because if he was going to sacrifice his vengeance for Sloan, he had to make sure he wasn’t implicated in any murders in the meantime.
If he wasn’t going to kill Colm, he’d be damned before someone else did it in his name.
He didn’t know if Romanov realized Callista was pregnant, but he couldn’t hold his breath and hope the man would have enough morals not to kill a woman with child.
So he’d go to Boston and make sure he and Romanov were on the same page. Jude would have to find somewhere safe to stash Sloan for that—and he had no illusions about how difficult it would be to convince her to stay there—but he’d figure out a way around this mess.
And after…After, they’d find somewhere to hunker down—maybe here—for the next nine months. See if they could really make a go of it without wanting to kill each other. After she had the baby, then they’d come up with a plan for their future.
His revenge had waited over thirty years. It could wait one more.
Maybe it could wait forever.
He turned for the house, taking the road back and looking for signs that someone else besides he and Sloan had passed. Last night it had been hard to tell. The house wasn’t tampered with, and he’d let himself get distracted with fucking Sloan instead of doing a perimeter check. He’d dropped the ball then, but he wasn’t about to make a habit of it.
The bushes lining the middle of the dirt road had been beaten down, but it was hard to say if that was from his vehicle or another. His housekeeper took a different route, something he’d specifically requested. If a stranger was on this island looking for him, they’d come this way, not the little path only known to locals.