Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Wayne lunges with a wild punch that Calder dodges. Calder moves like water, ducking Wayne’s swings, landing precise blows. Wayne is strong, and a lucky punch catches Calder in the ribs. Ribs that are still healing, thanks to Roman’s lesson.
They crash into the coffee table, shattering it. Wayne gets his hands around Calder’s throat, forcing him back against the wall. Calder’s face is reddening, his hands clawing at Wayne’s grip. Suddenly, I’m not frozen anymore.
I raise the shotgun, aiming at Wayne’s back. “Let him go.”
Wayne doesn’t acknowledge me, just tightens his grip. I can hear Calder gasping for air.
“I said, let him go!”
Still nothing. Calder’s eyes meet mine over Wayne’s shoulder, something desperate in them. His face is turning purple.
He’s dying.
The realization hits me hard. For a flash of a second, I wonder if he dies here and now, if that would make things easier for me. This man, who took everything from me and somehow became everything to me, is dying in front of my eyes. No. Even if Wayne were to let me go, which I doubt, I’d never be free of Roman.
I bring the butt of the gun up against his skull to send him to the side away from Calder, and then resettle it against my shoulder and pull the trigger. There’s not even a moment to think, to consider again.
The blast is deafening. The shotgun kicks against my shoulder. Wayne jerks, then crumples to the floor. Silence falls, broken only by Calder’s ragged breathing as he slumps against the wall, one hand at his throat. The smell of gunpowder and blood clings to the air.
I stand frozen, staring at Wayne’s body. At what I’ve done.
“Saint.” Calder’s voice is hoarse. “Saint, look at me.”
I tear my eyes away, finding Calder’s ice-blue gaze. He moves toward me slowly, hands raised like I’m a frightened animal.
“Give me the gun, sweetheart.”
I don’t resist as he gently takes it and sets it aside. My body is shaking, the reality of what just happened crashing over me.
“I killed him.” The words come out hollow. “I killed a man.”
“You saved my life.” Calder pulls me against him, one arm around my waist, the other cradling my head. “You did what you had to do.”
I press my face against his chest, breathing him in—cedar and leather and sweat. His heart hammers against my ear, proof that he’s alive.
“What’s going to happen now?” I ask.
He strokes my hair gently. “Now we call Kade. He’ll take care of the body.”
“And then?”
“Then we go into town. Create an alibi. Be seen in places.”
I blink, struggling through the fog of shock. “You want to go out? After—after this?”
“We need to be seen. Need witnesses to say we were nowhere near here when Wayne disappeared.” His voice is calm, practical. “Can you do that? Can you hold it together?”
I look down at Wayne’s body, then back at Calder, at the red ring forming on his throat.
“Yes,” I say, finding strength I didn’t know I had. “I can do it.”
He presses his forehead against mine, unexpectedly tender. “That’s my girl.”
The possessive words should bother me, but right now, they’re a lifeline. A reminder that we’re in this together.
“I need to change,” I say, checking for blood spatter. Somehow, there isn’t any.
“Good. I’ll call Kade.”
I pause. “Will he…? Will your brother…?”
“He’ll handle it,” Calder says simply. “No questions asked. That’s what family does.”
I go to the bedroom, close the door, and lean against it, just breathing. I took a life.
Part of me—the girl I used to be, Pastor James’s daughter—is screaming somewhere deep inside.
But a newer, harder part, the part forged in survival, the part that wears Calder’s ring and bears the Bishop brand, feels only a grim satisfaction. Wayne would have killed Calder. Would have destroyed everything. Worse, if he’d managed to kill Calder, he’d have come for me, and if there’s anything I’ve learned in recent weeks, it’s how to survive.
I change quickly, pulling on a simple gray dress. Tights and boots. By the time I emerge, Calder is off the phone.
“Kade’s on his way,” he says. “We need to be gone before he gets here.”
We step carefully around Wayne’s body. I don’t look at his face as we pass.
Outside, the air feels cleaner. Calder helps me into his truck, his hand lingering on my arm longer than necessary.
As we drive away, I feel something settle inside me. The girl I was is truly gone, lost to blood and survival and impossible choices. I might be the light in the Bishop darkness, but I sure as hell won’t be extinguished by the likes of some jerk like Wayne.
Calder parks in front of the hardware store. His hand settles at the small of my back as we walk in. For once, I don’t fret over the touch. About what it means, and what I want.