Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Instead, we’d rigged up a little portable gas stove outside, tucked between two fallen logs. I kept it angled behind a makeshift screen of brush and corrugated tin we’d scrounged up from the backup supplies for the cabin. It didn’t throw much light, and I could shut it off in seconds if we heard anything.
Tonight, the skillet was back on it—the skillet—and Gabby was watching it like it might betray her at any second.
“I wiped it with soap,” I reminded her, nudging the steaks around with the tongs. “In front of you to prove it. It's ruined it, but I was hoping you'd quit moaning about it.”
“Wiping is not washing,” she muttered, arms crossed tight over her hoodie. “It’s smearing bacteria into a deeper, more aggressive formation.”
I glanced over my shoulder at her and smirked. “You sound like it’s forming a union.”
“I’m just saying if we start glowing or develop a fever, I’m blaming the pan.”
“You can blame the pan,” I snickered, flipping a perfectly seared steak, “but you’ll be doing it with a full stomach.”
She gave the skillet another disgusted look, then went back to slicing tomatoes into perfect little rounds for the salad she insisted we include to balance out our meals. She wouldn’t stop watching the pan, though. Every few seconds, her eyes flicked to it like she was waiting for it to sprout legs and chase her.
It made me smile. Maybe because it was stupid. Perhaps because it was so perfectly her.
We were sitting just a few feet apart when I finally brought it up.
“Got a call from Marcus and Matty earlier,” I said, keeping my voice even and steady. “Maddox has upped the bounty.”
Her hands paused on the salad tongs, and she didn’t look at me right away.
“How much?” she asked after a long beat.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“How much, Webb.”
“Enough to attract people who don’t care what’s right or wrong. Enough to bring strangers sniffing around just to make a payday.”
She stared at the logs across from us. “Great.”
I watched her shoulders pull tight, her whole body drawing in as if she were trying to become smaller than she already was, and it made my chest clench.
“But it’s okay,” I added quietly. “We’re ahead of him.”
She gave me a doubtful glance, but I didn’t back down.
“I mean it. And something else, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but I called one of my cousins back in Gonzales County. He knows a guy called Maddix who used to be a cop.”
Gabby's head jerked. “Wait, Maddix? Like—?”
“Nah, this guy’s name’s spelled differently, and he’s definitely not the same guy,” I reassured her. “But the name caught me, too. He’s working out of Texas now but still has a few ties up north. Said he’s going to reach out to some of his people in New York and start sniffing around for anything Maddox might be tied into out there.”
She raised a brow. “You think he’s got reach that far?”
“If his empire’s as big as it’s looking, I don’t see him limiting himself to Florida. The kind of greed this guy’s chasing doesn’t come with borders. Especially not when money and reputation are involved. If he's known there, they'll have a bigger idea of what else he's been up to.”
I plated the steaks and handed hers over. Gabby took it wordlessly, staring at the meat and salad like they were foreign objects.
As I took bites of my own, she just sat there, pushing her steak around with the side of her fork, dragging it slowly through the lettuce and tomato like she was trying to camouflage it. I watched her lips press into a line, her eyes distant again, far away in that place she sometimes went to when it got quiet.
I didn’t say anything, just set my plate down, stood up, and walked over to her. She didn’t resist when I pulled her up gently, not even when I turned and sat back down in my chair with her tucked into my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because, at this point, it was.
She settled against me, the tension still clinging to her limbs like static, and I grabbed both plates and started feeding us slowly—one bite for her, one for me. She didn’t fight it, and I didn’t press her to tell me what was going on in her brain. I also didn’t tell her it was going to be fine because she was too smart for platitudes. I just held her, fed her, and stayed present.
I could feel it in her, how badly she needed the gentleness of it. The simplicity of just being taken care of, even for a minute. She’d carried herself through fire before she ever got to me—of course she was tired, so I let her lean. And I made damn sure she knew I’d hold her steady when she did.