Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 132657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
No, his internal voice argued. They had made themselves clear. Just because he wanted to pretend they hadn’t had this discussion didn’t mean Harlow and Niall hadn’t put their beliefs out there. They thought they should stay together because they were in love. Harlow had assets that could help them stay safe, and yet he hadn’t even taken the time to explore the options that might keep them together. He’d simply jumped headlong into… Yep, he’d jumped headlong into martyrdom, like her father had said. And for the reasons her father said. It was easier to let her go than to become the man she needed, to face all the things he needed to in order to be her husband and Niall’s true partner.
His chest felt too tight and he could hear a helicopter in the distance, but that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the emotion he felt welling up and threatening to drown him.
He’d made a mistake. Such a big mistake, and he’d brought Jack into it.
Jensen forced himself to stop and take a long breath. He still had a shot. He could grab the drive and tell Jack he wanted to change the meeting place from the FBI building to the McKay-Taggart building. He could walk in, explain what he was doing, and that his girlfriend would pay for an attorney.
Wow, that hurt, but he was going to have to suck it up and find a way to pay her back in sexual favors or carrying heavy stuff for her. Maybe if he married her and treated her like a queen for forty or fifty years, she would consider the debt paid.
He wasn’t even sure how he could repay Niall. He’d done this to him twice now. His best friend was used to getting left behind because Jensen couldn’t handle his damn feelings.
He had to find a way to control this…grief? Was it grief? Was it guilt? Was it a childhood spent worrying that everything would fall apart, so he huffed and puffed until it did and he could stop worrying because the worst had already happened?
It was a pattern from childhood and one he had to break. Now that he was standing here looking at the life revenge had built, he knew he was making the worst mistake of his life and he couldn’t even call them.
Could he find a ride back to Bonnet and pretend like he’d gone into town? The thought drifted through his brain, but they were up by now and they would know. Harlow would figure it out quickly.
He had to talk to her.
Ruby. Ruby had given her a phone. Ruby would kick his ass but would likely let him call her and start the groveling process.
He would grovel. He would kiss her toes and carry her handbag and be her lapdog everywhere but the dungeon floor.
It was like a weight got lifted off his chest. Like he could suddenly breathe freely, and he hadn’t realized how bad it had been before.
He didn’t have to live this way. He didn’t have to make this decision on his own. He would be upset, feel so small, if either of them had done this to him and he couldn’t… He couldn’t do this to them. Jack would be pissed, but he was going to talk to them. He would still take down Hamilton, and maybe the best way was for him to go alone into witness protection. But maybe they could find another way. Maybe they could get out of this together.
Maybe she would spit in his face, kick him in the balls, and send him away.
What mattered was that he tried his damnedest to keep them all together.
With new purpose he started walking toward the apartment he’d survived in for the last several months. He wouldn’t call it home. Home was where they were.
The helicopter was getting loud, and he wondered if there was some kind of police activity going. He couldn’t worry about that right now. All that mattered was getting inside his apartment and getting what he needed. Even though it sounded like the fucker was about to buzz the building. If that was a news chopper, they were going to get into some serious trouble because he could see the way the trees in the front grounds were whipping from the gusts the blades made. He rushed to get to his door to avoid that wind.
He had his hand on the knob when he realized it wasn’t locked.
A chill that had not a thing to do with the wind snaked down his spine.
He had a security system but it was attached to his phone, which he’d dumped so they couldn’t track him. It wasn’t an expensive one, just a system that would have alerted him to someone going in. It would be easy to turn it off if one knew what one was doing, and he knew damn well Hamilton would have someone who knew how to shut off a system.