Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
48
JASON
When it was made clear I wasn’t walking out of here with Frey in my custody, a darkness screamed at me to put two bullets in the man’s head. That even with that, Frey would be getting off easy for all the damage he’d done.
Especially to the woman I loved.
The last four weeks had been a living hell. I’d gone mad with fear for Laurel’s life, and it had been sleepless night after sleepless night, with nothing but crushing hopelessness. The cause of all this was only inches from the barrel of my gun, whose trembling made his handcuffs rattle against the post.
I sensed how conflicted she was about this. That part of her wanted his death as much as I did. But I might lose my life doing this, or worse yet, I might lose her.
Whatever happens, you stay with me, I’d told her once. But would she be able to if I did this?
The steady thump of rotors grew in the distance.
I didn’t follow orders or ask permission, not until I’d met her. And the desperate plea in her eyes was a request I would obey.
I hesitantly lowered my gun.
“I suggest you two get out of here,” Plavko said, rising from his seat. “We don’t want anyone asking questions.”
I gestured to the man shivering on the floor. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“Nothing good, trust me. You won’t hear from him again.” He ticked his head toward the door. “Go.”
The helicopter sounded like it was hovering over the house, meaning we had to move now. I gave him a final look, a mixture of an apology, gratitude, and a warning that he’d better keep his promise.
I took Laurel’s hand and we fled from the darkened room. She didn’t look back at the handcuffed man who kept saying her name over and over again.
He didn’t have any power over her.
She ran as fast as she could in the wedding dress and her weakened state, and I considered holstering my gun and carrying her the rest of the way, but—no. There was no way that would be faster.
I followed her down the stairs to the garage and snatched a set of keys to a Mercedes off a hook.
A heartbeat later, I had us peeling out of the garage and charging down the winding road. Every second put more space between us and the Killer Egg helicopter hovering over the house, the one that thankfully didn’t follow us.
The sound of rotors faded. We seemed to be in the clear, and she either sensed it, or knew by the way my death grip relaxed on the steering wheel.
“I love you, Jason.”
I had half a mind to pull over right then on the side of the road and rip the wedding dress off her. But when I glanced over to tell her how much I loved her, concern replaced all my thoughts.
“What’s happening?”
“I’m just carsick. I’ll be okay. Where are we going?”
“To my car. Then, Munich.”
She nodded and turned her gaze to the road. I reached over, taking her hand. I craved her touch, longed to feel the connection that had been missing for so long.
But the road took its toll on her, and soon after she was slumped down in the seat. Every curve seemed to make her feel worse, but when I slowed, she winced and shook her head. “Just drive. Get me the hell away from here.”
We were less than a mile from where I’d parked when she launched upright. “Shit, pull over.”
I veered off the road, gravel kicking up under my tires. We jerked to a stop, and she flung open her door, leaned over, and violently heaved the contents of her stomach onto the grass.
When she was finished, she collapsed back into the seat and threw a hand over her forehead, her eyes closed. She looked as miserable as I felt for her.
“Come here,” I said softly, urging her into my arms. She complied, only to slide down, draping her body across the console and her head resting in my lap. I gently ran my fingers through her hair, trying to offer comfort in any form possible.
In the rearview mirror, I spotted a flickering orange light on the cliff behind us and made a quiet sound of surprise.
“What is it?” she asked.
“That house I threatened to burn down? It’s on fire.”
She didn’t lift her head from my thigh. “Maybe Plavko did that for you.”
Maybe. Or maybe it was just the Special Ops team covering their tracks. I didn’t want to rush her, but it was risky to stay here. “My car’s not much farther.”
“Then let’s go,” she croaked.
I put the Mercedes in gear and pulled back onto the road. As we drove, I had one hand on the wheel and the other on her shoulder.
A few turns later, I skidded the Mercedes to a stop beside the Range Rover I’d bought in cash to make sure it couldn’t be traced back to me in case my plan went sideways. I carried her from one passenger seat to the other.