Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
But soon enough, I see the Do Not Enter sign to the left. It’s an exit for the drivers traveling a parallel highway on the other side of the trees. They use it to merge onto my highway, into the opposing lane. I jerk the wheel left, the lump swelling in my throat. A car could pop up anytime, heading straight for me, but I take a quick right, down the overgrown, gravel trail, barely big enough for a car.
It doesn’t take long. Branches hit the windows as Farrow’s truck appears ahead, parked. I pull up behind it.
Getting out, I look up at the black stone of the train tunnel as it emerges from rock, nothing but the sounds of the distant falls and the wind in the trees around me.
Farrow leans against it, smoking a cigarette, but I don’t walk to him. Dropping my gaze, I find the lone, rounded gray stone at the bottom of the wall instead. It’s a little lighter in color and surrounded by other stones and mortar.
My stomach sinks, looking down at the soil. Flat with weeds like any other patch of land.
“Were you able to arrange the burial?” I ask.
Farrow falls in at my side. “Not a problem.”
I reach for the shovel in his hand, seeing the canvas bag I’d asked for on the ground. “Thank you.”
But he sweeps the shovel up in both hands and jams it into the soil.
“What are you doing?”
He shakes his head. “Rest assured, it’s not my first.”
No. I yank the tool away from him.
“I can do this,” he grits out.
I’m not sure why he wants to.
“It’s my responsibility.” I move away a couple feet. “Fallon wouldn’t want this, and I can’t believe Ciaran would either.”
If she knew who he was, she wouldn’t want him involved at all.
Slicing into the earth, I pull out a lump of soil and dump it to the side.
“You should wait for dark,” Farrow warns me.
But I might not have till then. “I’m doing it now.”
Before I forget, I pull a folded envelope out of my back pocket and hand it to him. “For the burial arrangements when the time comes.”
And then I send him off. I need to be alone.
I continue digging, pushing the shovel in with my foot and locking my jaw to keep the bile down because eventually, the shovel is going to hit bone. I cringe every time the shovel burrows into the dirt, waiting for it.
The ache of that night returns, and I try to push it away and keep moving, but I know I deserve this. I owe him.
My chin quivers. “I’m sorry,” I murmur to David Miller. “I’m sorry I left you here.”
I kept staring at Miller’s chest, willing it to move. Please.
My chest shook as I knelt at his side, in the mud, not blinking.
“If it makes you feel better,” Drew said as he squatted next to me, “he tried to offer up his girlfriend to me to work off his debt.”
The thirty-two-year-old man on the ground laid with his eyes half-open.
“I mean,” Drew went on, “I’ll still fuck her, of course, but—”
I howled, lunging for Drew and digging my fingers into his throat as I squeezed. “You piece of shit!” I cried, bringing my fist down on his face like a hammer. “You lousy, fucking piece of shit.” I got in his face. “I hate you!”
Tears quaked in my vision, and I pinned him to the ground. A smile curled his mouth even as I choked him.
His guys grabbed me, dragging me off.
But grief overcame the anger—the pain, regret, and fear—and everything bubbled up from my stomach. I vomited on the bank of the pond.
No, no, no, no, no, no…
Heaving once, then twice, I emptied my body, wishing I could die.
Or just wake up.
Please let me wake up.
I sobbed quietly, the life I had ten minutes ago a dream compared to what I willingly walked into in just as short of a time. I shook my head.
“I thought for sure you’d be the one to jump ship first,” Drew mused, standing up and dusting himself off. “All your daddies are fine, upstanding civil servants—I was certain you’d be the one with overwhelming character.”
Daddies.
Madoc, Jared, Jax… My father. Why didn’t I know better?
“But you weren’t.” I heard his lighter snap shut as he lit a cigarette. “It was Lance who had the character. You knew something was wrong, but unless you have the guts to walk away, what does it matter?”
I squeezed my eyes shut against the shame. Why didn’t I leave with Lance?
“You like Green Street,” Drew told me. “More than you know you should. When I picked the two of you, I never thought you’d be the last one standing.”
I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my suit coat.
“Thanks for buying the building.” His voice held back glee. “Luckily, Lance was stupid enough to believe it was his idea.”