Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Indie grinds against my leg, mouth attacking mine, while I tug at my belt and fumble my fly. This might be the most desperate I’ve ever been to get my dick out of my pants.
“MILO?”
Indie stiffens, hands gripping my shirt, breath at my neck. “Who’s that?”
I blow out a long sigh that does little to relieve the built-up tension. “Derek. He must be back with the trailer and needs me to move my truck. I have to go.”
Indie takes a step back and mirrors my deflation with her controlled exhale. Her dress falls into place. A fucking shame. And I buckle my belt and button my shirt before dropping my hat on my head.
“Don’t get caught.” My finger traces her jaw.
Indie turns her head and kisses it. “I won’t.”
“MILO?”
Hugging her shivering body, she gives me a sad smile. “Move your truck and go to bed with your wife.”
I shake my head. “Your cousin. I’m not owning a goddamn person in your family.” My boots take me in the opposite direction toward Derek. “Except you, Indie. I own every inch of you.”
36
IF YOU LET ME GO
INDIE
The following morning, I wake at the crack of dawn and thank all the stars in the Texas sky that Pauline spent most of the previous evening here. Jolene was too busy pretending to be a good mom, or any sort of mom, to notice Milo “working” late or check on my whereabouts. Not that the guards would let me leave. I’m sure they have a photo of me taped to their forearms.
“Oh good, I don’t have to drag you out of bed.” Jolene dumps her son on me the second I open my bedroom door. Her clicking heels fade toward the stairs while she waddles in her tight skirt, leaving her spicy floral scent lingering with …
Yuck!
Benjamin’s diaper is saturated, as in soaked completely through his jammies. He smells like a urine sponge, seeping through to my clean shirt.
On a deep sigh, I take care of him … for Milo.
“We need to talk, darlin’.” Fletcher eyes me over his coffee mug while I settle Benjamin into his swing next to the dining room table.
Micah smiles at me while placing a plate of food at my spot. “Coffee?”
I shake my head.
“Juice?”
“No. Thank you,” I whisper, taking a seat.
“That will be all, Micah,” Fletcher says. His dismissal of Micah drops the room's temperature by a good ten degrees.
But I try to act unaffected.
“I thought this would work out,” he says, slowly setting his coffee mug on the table. “I thought four years was plenty of time for you to grow up.”
I pick up my fork with a shaky hand. When it tap tap taps against the plate, I set it back down on the napkin.
“Did you enjoy your swim last night?”
My stomach drops ten stories, and my pulse drives into panic mode. Taking a slow swallow, I force my gaze to his.
His lips twist for a few seconds. “Imagine my disappointment this morning when Sam tells me he saw something a little ‘unsettling’ last night.”
My jaw stiffens, and I think about Milo. Where is he? Has Fletcher said anything to him? Does Jolene know?
“Do you know what happens to women who try to steal married men?”
“He’s mine,” I whisper.
Fletcher’s cracked lips part. It’s a rare moment. I don’t think he knows how to respond.
Good.
Let him think about it.
Seconds pass, and his shock morphs into something else. Something akin to what I imagine the devil looks like after a bad day. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
Really?
Before he changes his mind, I scoot back in my chair and find my legs, although shaky like the rest of my body. Still, I’ll leave on my knees if I have to; I’ll crawl out of this hellhole if that’s what it takes.
“Oh no, darlin’.” Fletcher cuts into his breakfast steak.
I wish all that red meat would hurry up and stop his heart.
“I fear you misunderstood me. Just because it’s time for you to go doesn’t mean you’re free to leave on your own.” He burps.
Everything about him disgusts me. He’s ugly through and through.
“It’s getting exhausting … keeping that boy in line. I give, and I give, and I give.” He shakes his head. “And what do I get in return? Not a goddamn thing.”
“Give him his sister back,” I say, barely a whisper.
Brows drawn together, he cocks his head a fraction. “What … did you just say?”
Inching my head side to side, I take slow steps backward.
“Sister?” His eyes narrow even more into beady little black pinpoints. “Milo doesn’t have a sister. His family died. He killed them.”
“Archer killed them.”
“Archer saved Milo’s pathetic little life. He spent years in prison and died so that Milo could live. All … all Milo has to do is show a shred of gratitude. Embrace the life that I have given him. Money. Power. A beautiful wife. A child. It’s just that fucking easy. Or … it should be. But for some reason, he’s hell-bent on losing everything for what? You Indiana? Do you think you’re that special? Would you rather see Milo die than not be with him? Are you that desperate? That selfish? Can you not find a man of your own? What’s so fucking special about Milo Odell? He’s a coward. A murderer. A cheat. A liar. And he’d rather stick his dick in you than save his—” Fletcher’s lips press into a hard line.