Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Angie,” I groan, my voice muffled against her throat.
I start moving, slow and deliberate. Each thrust met with a sigh, each retreat with a whimper.
The rhythm builds steadily as I grind into her. Her breath hitches with every thrust, her nails digging into my back. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, mixing with our heavy breathing.
The tension coils tight within me, yet I hold back. I want this to last. I want to savor it. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper inside her and making it near impossible to resist the climax building within me.
“Jason,” she gasps, grabbing my ass. “Don’t stop.”
I drive into her.
“Jason!” she cries out, the sound echoing through the room as her body tightens around me.
It’s mind-altering, the way she comes apart beneath me, and it pushes me over the edge. With a final thrust, I spill inside her and ride out waves of sheer pleasure.
Exhaling, I collapse beside her on the bed, pulling her close against my chest as we both catch our breaths.
Outside the room, reality waits—the harrowing truth about Ralph.
But for now, we’re protected in the cocoon of our love.
“Jason,” Angie murmurs as she traces circles on my bare chest, her head pillowed on my shoulder. “We can’t forget.”
“I know.”
The thrill and satisfaction recede, replaced by the reality of our situation.
Murder. Deceit.
It’s still here, and we still have to deal with all of it.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
Angie lifts her head from my shoulder and looks at me. Her eyes shimmer with a mix of emotions.
She leans in and kisses my lips. “We’ll figure it out, Jason.”
I nod and pull her closer into my body. Her reassurance feels like a lifeline in the chaos swirling around. I press my lips to her forehead and tighten my arms around her.
Each tick of the clock is an unsettling reminder of what awaits us come dawn.
Chapter Forty-One
Angie
The next morning we head back to my place, where I find the notes I picked up from Ralph that day in the hall scrunched in the bottom of my backpack.
Jason has Lindsay’s note and the letter that Ronny Burgundy wrote to his friend Steve Chapman.
I’m no expert, but I do see similarities in the handwriting.
“Jason,” I say, grabbing his attention as he paces around the room. “Take a look at this.”
I spread the notes out on the coffee table.
He crouches down beside me. “They’re similar,” he agrees, running a hand over his stubbled chin. “There’s a consistency in the letter formation.”
“And with Lindsay’s note,” I say. “It looks like he made an effort to make the writing a little more feminine, but there are still similarities.”
He nods slowly, his gaze more intense than ever. “You’re right. The way the letters dip. But it’s still much more precise than the handwriting in that sample from Lindsay’s journal.” His voice trails off as realization dawns on his face. He stands and paces, ruffling his hands through his hair. “It was Ralph all along.”
“What are we going to do?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. Blake has his investigators on it, trying to find out who actually beat Ralph to a pulp. Plus, Ronny Burgundy’s fingerprints should be on file back in New Jersey from when he was arrested for stalking Lindsay. But he may have been a minor then, which means the documents are probably sealed.” He shakes his head. “Maybe he was arrested again.”
“Or maybe he wasn’t a minor. He could have been eighteen already. He and Lindsay were seniors together, right?”
“Yeah.” Jason nods. “Blake’s looking into all of it. Even if we can get Ronny’s fingerprints, we have to get Ralphs’s as well.”
I point to the notes. “They’re probably on there.”
“Along with both of ours and who knows who else’s,” he says. “Plus this is regular notebook paper. It’ll be hard to get prints from it.”
“Crap,” I say. Then a lightbulb in my head. “I’ll go see him in the hospital again. Grab something from his room. Like a cup or something.”
“No,” Jason says. “You’re not going near him. I’ll do it.”
“Or we could let Blake get someone to go in and grab something. He’ll be on alert with either of us.”
Jason sighs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m paying this attorney a ridiculous amount of money—”
“Don’t worry about the money,” I interrupt him. “I’ve got it covered.”
His brow wrinkles. “Fuck no, Angie. This isn’t your problem. It’s mine, and I’m taking care of it. I have the money.”
I want to push. Tell him that Blake’s fees are mere pennies to me.
But Jason is proud.
So instead, I say nothing. I let him keep his pride intact, knowing it’s one of the few things he has control over amidst the chaos.
One day, we’ll be married, and his debts will be mine.
And then I’ll pay off his bills.