Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I sigh. “No more than I’m using him, I suppose. Or maybe ‘using’ is the wrong word. I’m just so happy you’re okay, Tash. I was worried.”
“You don’t need to worry. Rafe won’t let anything happen to me.”
“I wish I could see things as simply as you.”
“When this is over, when we’re back in our apartment and it all seems like a blur, like a dream, you won’t have to worry about the moral dilemma. You’ll just have to ask yourself – do you like this guy?”
I don’t respond straightaway. If I answer honestly–with a resounding yes–it will feel too final. Once I’ve admitted to my best friend that my emotions toward my Warden aren’t as simple as maybe I wish they were, there’s no taking that back.
“I think it’s cray cray that we’re talking for the first time in days and it’s all men, men, men,” I tell her.
I can almost hear her rolling her honeyed eyes. “Why do I feel a subject change coming?”
“Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“I don’t think you want all the details.”
That goes both ways. She doesn’t need to know about the steaminess I’ve shared with Dom, about the temptation that strikes me every single moment of every single day, even during the week we were apart… or the emotion tugging at me like threads of destiny telling me this is the guy for me.
“Apart from the you-know-what,” Tash says, “I’ve been catching up on some reading. Watching movies. Missing you…”
“I’ve missed you too,” I reply.
“I thought Rafe was going to bring you to the safe house at first. When he didn’t, I doubted, just a little, if he were telling the truth. That’s why it’s so, so good to hear your voice.”
“Ditto,” I admit.
Now, I have to accept that Dom isn’t a liar, at least withthis.
“What about you?” she asks.
“Reading – making jewelry.”
“Did Dom bring your supplies?”
So much for not talking about our men…
“He did one better than that. He made me a studio.” I can’t hide the excitement in my voice. “It’s everything I ever dreamed a studio could be. It must’ve cost him almost a fortune. It’s the best—”
I cut myself off, taking a breath. I sound like a giddy, deluded fool.
“But what happened to not talking about men?”
She laughs. “Fair point. So, what are you making?”
And we’ve failed… again. “Something for Dom.”
CHAPTER 17
DOM
Sweat slides down my forehead and sticks my clothes to my skin as we hike up the Devil’s Punchbowl in Angeles National Forest. Rafe wheezes beside me, and behind and ahead of us, the men he hired groan with the effort. It’s times like these I miss my SEAL buddies. Even with my tweaked knee and back, I have to slow down so that I don’t push too far ahead.
“It’s going to be a damn slaughter just for making us hike,” Rafe grumbles.
“If blood is spilled, that won’t be why.”
“I thought you were against bloodshed.”
“Not if it stops Mason coming after Evie.”
We keep going across the rugged terrain, heading toward the coordinates that Bobby the prisoner pointed out on the map.
“You weren’t keen on hurting the kid,” Rafe says.
“To kill the snake, you cut off the head. You don’t mess with the tail. It’s a waste of energy.”
“If he lied to us, I might have something to say about that.”
I look grimly at him. “You’re not hurting the kid.”
After thirty minutes of tough hiking, we crest a small dusty hill and stop opposite the mouth of a cave. I shoulder my rifle, then double-check my bulletproof vest. Gesturing to the men, they pan out, getting ready to advance into the cave.
I’m about to give the order when I hear a thrum-thrum noise. Like an engine.
“Do you hear that?” Rafe asks.
A moment later, three off-road bikes explode from the mouth of the cave, followed by four more. They bounce over the terrain and take a sharp turn, heading in the opposite direction.
“Aim for the tires!” I roar, hefting my rifle and aiming at the bikes
I let a round of bullets fly, buckling one of the bikes, and then switch my aim to another. But by then, it’s too late. They’ve shot over the opposite hill and out of sight. They chose this cave well. I jump over the hill and slide down it, then run to the opposite side. By the time I get to a firing position, the bikes have taken another turn.
“Fuck,” I growl, turning back to Rafe and the others.
“Maybe they had cameras watching the perimeter,” Rafe muses.
“Fuck.”
“At least we stopped one of them.”
“Mr. Russo,” one man says, gesturing to the man on the ground.
He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and when he fell from the bike, his unprotected head slammed against a rock. I’ve seen enough dead bodies in my time; I don’t need to check if he’s breathing. But I rush over, hoping it’s Mason, but I don’t recognize the man. He’s shirtless and covered in biker tattoos.