Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
I pull the gun I retrieved from Mariette’s out of the back of my jeans and walk over to my nightstand, about to drop it in the drawer when I notice the one that I had stashed there is missing.
My brothers always knew it was there. It’s been there for years.
She’s in my bed for a week, and it’s gone.
I guess I have to go after her now. I need the gun back.
I smile a little, dropping Mariette’s in the drawer in its place and undressing.
I don the suit, picking out a black shirt and black tie, and run my fingers through my hair. Grabbing my keys, I head back down the stairs and out the door, to my truck. Climbing in, I set off, speeding across the tracks to St. Carmen.
The broken dirt gives way to crumbling concrete that slowly turns into fresh blacktop, and I go from hearing the tires under the truck to hearing nothing.
The shop windows are all dark, rain shimmering like fireflies under the streetlights, and I keep my eyes forward as I pass turns that I haven’t taken in years, and businesses I was never good enough to shop in.
It still baffles me that I opted to send Liv to school over here. I just knew it was the way out. I couldn’t afford it yet with Dallas, and Trace had no interest in his education. Plus, I owed Liv.
We didn’t grow up together, so she never really knew me, and I didn’t make it easier. She had goals, and I wanted one person in the family to go to college.
But I made sure she never gave that school a reason to call me over here. I wanted to step foot in this town as little as possible.
And now, here I am … starving for one of their daughters.
I swing into her driveway, seeing a couple of lights on, and race around the patch of grass in the middle. The tires scream as I halt in front of her door.
Hopping out, I leave the keys inside and straighten my tie.
I press the doorbell.
Checking my phone, I read the time—11:03.
She said her siblings were with her grandparents. And if her mother came back early, then oh well. I guess we’re doing this tonight.
Krisjen appears at the sidelight window, but she quickly moves out of sight. “I don’t want to see you,” she calls out.
I reach my arms out and grip the doorframe. “Well, I want to see you!”
“I don’t care!”
Is she fucking kidding me? Does she know what it takes for me to come over to this shithole?
“Go home!” she yells.
But her voice is distanced.
Like she’s moved away from the door.
Good.
I don’t take time to think. I release the doorframe, take one step back, and shoot out my nice fucking leather shoe and kick the goddamn door.
It takes two more kicks to get the splintered wood to break away, and I charge in, seeing her in the middle of the foyer, breathing hard and wide-eyed as she scurries back, putting distance between us.
The alarm splits my ear, blaring shrill and loud.
I head straight for her.
“Are you crazy?” she growls.
God, she’s cute in a ponytail.
“Turn off the alarm,” I bark.
She folds her arms over her chest, not moving.
I narrow my eyes as the shrill scream of the alarm cuts through my brain.
Goddammit …
A phone rings, and I dart my gaze to the wall where a landline phone is posted next to the alarm.
She stands there.
“Answer it,” I tell her.
They’ll send security if she doesn’t.
But she just tips her chin down, a challenge in her fucking beautiful eyes.
Son of a bitch.
“Krisjen …”
The phone rings four more times and then stops. She smiles to herself.
Twisting around, she punches a code into the alarm and the shrieking ceases. Spinning back toward me, she flexes her jaw. “It’s like a three-minute response time,” she says. “Better say what you gotta say quickly.”
“Who said I wanted to talk?”
She shakes her head at me.
Motherfucker.
In two seconds, I’m in front of her, taking her hips in my hands and getting down in her face.
She scowls up at me. “You’re not old enough for me.”
I kiss her, taking her face in my hands and moving over her lips, hungry to get lost in her again. I press into her as she groans into my mouth.
Where is her bedroom?
But she rips her mouth away. “I can’t be what keeps you alive.” She breathes out. “I can’t take care of you. I can’t even take care of myself.”
“I don’t want you to take care of me!” I growl, pulling her into me. “I don’t want you to make me soup and clean up after me and tell me what to eat and what not to drink! I don’t want you to do the things a mother does!” I hover over her lips, starving as I lower my voice to a whisper. “I want you to do the things a girlfriend does.”