Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“Are you saying I can’t protect my own sister?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”
“What—”
“You couldn’t protect her from me. I took her not once, but twice.” Then I add, “You can’t even protect her from your piece-of-shit daddy.”
“What?”
I shake my head. “Jesus, you don’t even know, do you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Brecken snaps.
“Why don’t you go ask your daddy about that?” I snap back, pissed off once again. “Along with the long list of people he’s fucked over. And done it so bad that someone’s come back to destroy him and is startin’ with her. But if you think, even for a single second, I’m gonna give her up or that you can take her away from me, I’m gonna put every name on that list to shame when I hunt you and your daddy down. Do you understand? She ain’t goin’ anywhere until all threats against her are neutralized and every inch of this world is safe for her.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING when I wake up, I wonder how I fell asleep in the first place.
After everything that happened and everything he told me and everything I decided after he left me in the room to rest, I don’t know how I ever relaxed enough to let my eyes fall closed, let alone sleep. But somehow I did. Maybe all the events of yesterday wore me out, and it didn’t help that he gave me some pain medication for all my injuries. When he had time to make a drugstore run, I didn’t know and I didn’t ask. Just like I didn’t ask about the breakfast he served me. All my favorites including the kind of juice I prefer, just like that first morning.
And over breakfast, he talked. Something he never usually does. He told me he had a talk last night, with the Graysons and none other than my brother. He said they’re all looking into who could be behind all this, but their best guess is that it has something to do with my father. At first, it took me a few seconds to take in the fact that the Graysons are working together with my brother. Or that he—the man who wants nothing to do with the Turners ever, and yes, for a good reason too—had a talk with Brecken. Who is more or less like my father. Or at least, that’s what I always thought, but the fact that my brother is willing to help in order to protect me—and to find Radisson’s sister—is making me rethink things.
When I’d pondered that surprise, I thought about my father being involved. I don’t doubt it. If someone wants to hurt me and they’re willing to go to these lengths to do it, it definitely has something to do with my dad. He’s never been the most popular, for obvious reasons, and I can see why someone would think I’m the perfect target if they want to make my dad pay for something. Only I wish they knew my father doesn’t really care about me all that much. If I died, he’d probably mourn me for a day, mourn all the opportunities he lost to make more money. But other than that, it wouldn’t really bother him.
Anyway, Radisson also said that while others are digging into things, I’m going to stay with him. We’re going to move from the cabin to a different location. One that’s more secure and that only a few trusted people know about. But first, we need to go into town to get some supplies.
Which is where we are. In town.
After driving in his truck for over thirty minutes, we’ve just arrived. He parks in one of the very few empty spots on what looks like a busy street. The sun is out and people are walking about. I see coffee shops, restaurants, stores of all kinds, from a convenience store to a couple of clothing stores; from a candy shop to an apothecary. This is the busiest, most crowded place he could’ve brought me to. If I screamed for help, at least a few people would stop and look. Maybe a couple of them would come to my rescue. Actually, I don’t even think I’ll have to scream because one look at me, with my scrapes and my ripped dress from yesterday, and people will know something is wrong. That I’m maybe being held against my will.
“You remember the rules, yeah?”
His voice breaks into my thoughts and I look away from the window. Just like the last time I was in his truck, he seems to shrink the space with his large, muscular body. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, too, and while they aren’t as dusty as they were, there are still splatters of blood all over them. The white bandage over his shoulder is partially visible through the open collar of his shirt. And as usual, his sleeves are folded up to his elbows, and I can see the scrapes and cuts on his forearms as well. Some of them are shallow and already healing, but some are deep and an angry red. I don’t exactly remember all of what happened when he dove over me, except that his arms felt strong and secure and like a cushion against the harsh world, and he took the bullet that was meant for me—he took a bullet for me!—but from the looks of it, he also took the brunt of our fall yesterday. Plus, the state of his knuckles. One look and you’d know he tried to beat someone to death with his hands. They are torn up and shredded. Skinned and bruised like I’ve never seen on anyone, even on him.