Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Every woman before her meant nothing. I never gave them a passing thought. We entered into a situation knowing what it was, and I never felt guilty holding up to my end of the bargain. If they happened to catch feelings, that was on them. I never once lied or pretended to care more than I did just to get something out of them.
Only once did I have something that carried on a little longer than it should've because it was convenient, and when that blew up in my face, I vowed that I'd never again put myself in a situation where the woman I was having sex with would confuse what it was we were doing.
Until Cora fucking Preston.
I realized that I could take that one night we shared in California out of the equation, and it wouldn't change how I felt about her, and that is what made me get an overpriced hotel room instead of going to the cabin to speak with Hemlock.
That brings me to now, standing outside the cabin with the sun fading behind the mountain. The number of cars out front tells me that more than just Lark is at the house, and I know that some of the others must've made it to the home base. As much as I'd prefer not to do this with an audience, I don't have much choice. There's a shit storm to navigate, and I know from experience this isn't something I can handle on my own if I want a favorable outcome.
I use my code to enter the house, mildly surprised Hemlock hasn't pulled my access. I know my presence with the people wouldn't draw too much attention if I didn't look like something that was run over and scraped off the road, but I know the gash on my cheek and the nearly swollen shut eye are going to be the topic of conversation long past tonight.
I spot Hemlock and Zara, feeling a wave of guilt for how I treated them recently.
"Zara," I say as I approach the couple. "I owe you an apology."
"You need to get to the fucking conference room," Hemlock growls as if he's feral and about to lash out at me. He turns back toward Zara before speaking again. Zara, go to our room, please."
I walk toward the conference room, and it feels like it's been years since I've stepped foot in here rather than a couple of weeks. Nothing has changed with the space, just a lot has changed inside of me since I was here last.
Before Hemlock can get inside the room and rip me to shreds for having the audacity to show up like I have, Jericho steps inside the room and closes the three of us inside.
"What the fuck happened to you?" Jericho asks.
I've worked with the man on several cases, although Mike was his handler for his recent foray into Nathan Adair's life.
"Got my ass kicked," I mutter, resisting the urge to lift a hand to the cut on my face. It hurts like a motherfucker, and I know I should've probably gotten stitches, but the steri-strips I applied to it will have to do. I don't have time to worry about formal medical attention.
"Clearly," Hemlock snaps. "What is this apology shit with Zara?"
I look at the man, for the first time in my life fully understanding the instinct to rip the head off anyone who even considers putting their woman in a bad mood, much less one that he believes poses a threat to her.
"He fell in love with his mark," Jericho says, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Hemlock's eyes widen in surprise, but he can't be any more fucking shocked than I am about my current emotional situation.
"She wasn't a fucking mark," I snap at the man. "But that's not up for discussion."
"Oh, it's not?" Hemlock says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think maybe—"
"The man who beat the shit out of me issued a warning about Cora Preston. Has Kincaid kept you up to date on that case?" I interrupt Hemlock.
I've been working this case as support for this Gatlinburg chapter of Cerberus, despite Kincaid being my contact rather than Hemlock. I think it has more to do with my history with Kincaid than my recent dust-up with Hemlock.
"Both of us," Jericho says. "We had a conference call about it earlier today. She pulled the video feeds?"
"She did," I confirm. I watched that video over and over and over last night just so I could see her pretty face.
"Do you think William ordered the beating?" Hemlock asks. "I'll admit that he's a giant asshole, but I watched the tape of that dick Fredricks coming in and I didn't see any surprise on his face saying there was a difference in what he was hearing versus what he knew to be true."