Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
She merely snorts. “Something tells me I would’ve known by now if you told him.”
“Do you think he’ll be mad?”
“How would I know?” My face falls, and her brows pinch together. “Sorry. I’m not…”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
She stares down at the concrete while I gaze at the water shooting out from the mouths of four metal fish in the center of the fountain. Kids are splashing and playing along the edges, and Moms are pushing babies in strollers with Starbucks cups nestled into carriers. How can they all walk past like everything’s okay when my life is in the middle of falling apart?
“If you’re worried that I did this on purpose or to trap him,” I whisper, my chin quivering. “Please, tell me you believe me. It would kill me to know otherwise.”
She blinks rapidly, shaking her head. “Never would I consider it. You’re better than that.”
“Thank you.” I sigh with relief. There she was, telling me she was fine with us being together. I guess adding a baby into the mix makes it a whole other situation, in any case.
“Okay, let’s just pause for a moment,” she finally blurts out. “The whole thing is making me feel weird. I think we should go home. I need some time to think.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.” I have to bite my tongue before I can do something awkward, like ask her not to tell Callum. Something tells me I’d regret it if I did. That might be the final straw that breaks our friendship for good, if I haven’t already destroyed it by confessing my secret.
Tendrils of fear snake up my back. There’s no hiding the truth anymore. I must tell Callum before Tatum blurts it out—accidentally or otherwise. I should’ve known that I would never be able to keep this a secret.
All I can do during the long, quiet ride home is hope Callum meant it when he talked about having children with me. I can only hope he has it in him to be the man I need. The man we both need. The alternative is something I can’t fathom thinking about at the moment. My only hope is that Callum and I can figure this out, and that my relationship with Tatum hasn’t been ruined in the process.
CALLUM
“Patience,” Romero advises, his eyes constantly moving as he scans the area around us while we stand beneath the covered stoop in front of his cottage. “Just because I haven't found anything yet doesn't mean I won't.”
“It isn't you I'm frustrated with,” I grunt, trying not to appear suspicious. There are no fewer than five guards within my line of sight, and I can't help but wonder if it's one of them.
The traitor.
“It's barely been two days since I installed the software,” he reminds me. “Give it some time.”
“I get it, but until then, I have to pretend I trust everyone equally, and that’s frustrating as hell when you know one of your men is sharing information he shouldn’t be.”
“There is another solution. It’s faster, if that’s what you’re looking for. You could just fire everybody and start over.”
He recoils under the sharp glare I shoot at him. I know he wasn’t serious, but I’m not in a joking mood. “I can't afford to lose my entire team at a time like this. Not with a new deal in the works and increased security.”
“I know. I just wanted to ensure you knew all the possibilities.”
What I don't want to voice, though, which he probably understands, is my hesitation in leaving the house unsecured now that Bianca is here. It's more important than ever to make sure there are eyes watching me at all times. I can't afford to throw away all of our security because of one bad apple. The frustration I feel mounts every day. The sense of betrayal. I almost wish Amanda would pull more of her shit in hopes somebody will slip up and reveal themselves as the one going behind my back to feed her information. She's been quiet—too quiet. So quiet that just the thought of it makes my hackles rise.
“I've been thinking,” Romero murmurs, “what if we set a trap?”
“In what way?”
“We can come up with a made-up scenario. Divide the men into groups of three or four, get them all in a room together, then mention one of these fake scenarios.”
“Such as what?”
“You're selling the house. You're moving to Europe. You're getting married.”
Ahhh. Yes. “Something that would interest her,” I muse.
“Exactly. If she comes back to you and throws it in your face, you'll know from whatever she tells you which story she heard. We can narrow it down to the three or four men who possibly gave her the information.”
“You know, that's not a bad idea,” I agree. “And those are the phones we can check, too, to see which of them made contact with her.”