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)
It’s not enough. But it’s all I’ve got.
The sun is already sinking toward the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. Blood colors. I try not to read anything into that.
The porch light is on when I park, warm yellow against the evening shadows. Saint must have heard the truck because she’s at the door before I reach it, her face pale, her eyes searching mine for answers I’m not sure I have. She’s been alone all afternoon, waiting, wondering. I can see it in the tight set of her shoulders, the way she’s holding herself like she might shatter.
“It’s time,” I say.
She nods. She already knows. And I’m glad I told her everything. Prepared her. Family dinner tonight. Bring your wife. The contempt in his voice when he said it still echoes in my head.
“I need to change.” She steps back to let me inside. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Take twenty. We can’t be early. Can’t look eager.”
She disappears upstairs, and I move through the house, checking windows and doors. Habit. Paranoia. The knowledge that everything I’ve been building toward is about to collapse or come together, and I’m not sure which. At least Kade did a decent job of cleaning up. Not a speck of blood, only the soft scent of bleach lingers in the air.
The FBI was supposed to be in position. Recording equipment in the barn, agents stationed in the treeline, the whole plan hinged on Roman feeling safe and powerful during the ceremony, drunk on tradition and his own authority. Not a family dinner. Not tonight. I’ll just have to get him there myself. Bait him. Send him into a rage if I have to.
But I worry this change means he knows something. Or suspects something. Either way, I can’t walk into that house without insurance.
I pull the wire from my pocket and turn it over in my hands. Small black box with adhesive backing and a battery that Reese said would last six hours. It looks like nothing. Feels like everything. My salvation or my death sentence, depending on how tonight goes. Saint comes down the stairs twenty minutes later, and the sight of her stops me cold.
She’s wearing the deep red dress that makes her dark blue eyes pop, simple and elegant. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, catching the lamplight. She’s put on makeup, subtle enough to look natural, enough to hide the exhaustion and fear around her eyes. On her feet are low-heeled boots she can run in if she needs to.
Smart girl.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her.
“I look like I’m walking to my own execution.”
“That too.” I cross to her and cup her face in my hands. Her skin is cold despite the warmth of the house. “I need you to trust me tonight. Whatever happens, whatever he says, don’t react. Don’t give him anything he can use.”
“You’ve told me that before.”
“I’m telling you again.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand how serious this is. “Roman’s dangerous when he’s in control. He’s worse when he thinks he’s losing it. And right now, I think he suspects he’s losing something.”
“The FBI?” Her voice drops to barely a whisper.
“Maybe. I don’t know what he knows.” The admission costs me. I’m supposed to have answers, supposed to be three steps ahead, supposed to protect her from exactly this kind of chaos. “But I’ll have the wire. Recording everything. If he says anything incriminating, we’ll have it documented.”
“And if he doesn’t? If this dinner is just dinner?”
“Then we eat, we smile, we go home.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “But it won’t be just dinner. Roman doesn’t do casual. There’s a reason he changed the plan.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then pulls back to look at me. “What if something goes wrong?”
“Then you stay behind me. No matter what.”
“Calder…”
“Promise me, Saint.”
She searches my face, and I see the moment she decides to trust me. Despite everything. Despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. “I promise.”
“Good.” I take her hand and lace our fingers together. Her skin is still cold, but her grip is firm. Stronger than it was weeks ago, when she was still learning how to survive in my world. “Let’s go.”
She stops me at the door, hand on my chest. “I love you,” she says. “Whatever happens tonight. Whatever he does. I need you to know that.”
The words hit me somewhere deep all over again. Somewhere I didn’t know could exist in someone like me.
“I love you too.” I press a kiss to her forehead, her hair, the corner of her mouth. “And I’m going to get us through this. Both of us. Together.”
She nods. Squares her shoulders. Lifts her chin like she’s preparing for battle.
Which, in a way, she is.
The drive to the main house takes ten minutes.