Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Carpe diem was my mantra.
But now?
I sit on the sidelines, looking in.
Knowing I don’t belong.
And wondering if maybe…I never did.
Chapter Twenty
Ben
The bachelor and bachelorette parties have ended, and Braden, Skye, and the others—along with the dancers—have retired for the evening. I’m sitting alone at the bar where the bachelorette party took place, nursing my third Wild Turkey of the night.
Or is it my fourth?
All I know is I’m feeling little pain, and that’s the way I want it right now.
But even in this state, whenever I’m alone, the past comes haunting.
Fucking Dirk Conrad.
I wipe the thought from my mind. He’s not going to ruin my weekend in Jamaica.
I don’t want Dirk Conrad on my mind.
I don’t want any of that shit on my mind.
Not this weekend, damn it.
Still…
As much as I’ve tried to forget, the memories are fresh. You don’t forget being spattered with a man’s blood. You don’t forget the sight of human teeth in a fucking plastic bag.
You don’t forget the sight of someone plunging a knife into a man’s stomach.
You don’t forget the gasping sound of a man taking his last breath.
And you don’t forget the smell. The smell of death.
Not of rot. That comes later.
But death itself has a scent—a sickening, nauseating scent.
That’s some serious shit that brands itself into you, becomes a part of you.
No matter what you do, how many drinks you have, how many women you fuck—that stays with you forever.
I shoot my Wild Turkey and push the glass toward the bartender. “One more.”
The barkeep raises his eyebrows. “How many have you had, Mr. Black?”
“Does it matter? I’m paying premium price for it. Give me another.”
I down it and push the glass toward him again.
“Mr. Black?”
“What?”
“There’s a woman here—one of the bachelorettes.”
“So?”
“I think I know her. A tall drink of water with dark hair, looks Latina?”
Tessa Logan. He’s talking about Tessa Logan.
I absently curl my hands into fists. “What about her?”
“She’s one hot piece of ass.”
I rise then, grab the bartender by the collar. “You don’t talk about her that way. You don’t talk about any woman that way, but especially not her.”
His eye twitches. “What do you think you’re going to do about it?”
“I’ll fucking bury you.”
“We may not be in the U.S., but we still have laws here in Jamaica.” He keeps his voice steady, despite the fact that I’m still holding his collar.
“Do I look like I give a damn about laws?”
“I know you don’t.” He smiles—fucking smiles. “In fact, Mr. Black, I know a lot of things.”
Jesus fuck. Who is this guy?
“Enlighten me.” I loosen my fist from his collar and let him go. “What do you think you know?”
“I know you’re not the philanthropist you claim to be.”
I scoff. “We give our fair share to charity, but I never claimed to be a philanthropist.”
“I know you and your brother give to that food bank in Boston.”
“That’s because our mother used to take us there. We weren’t always rich.”
“Oh, I know that, too.” He grabs a towel and wipes down the bar. “In fact…I know how you got your start.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“You sure?”
Problem is that I’m not sure. Braden confided in me years ago about where the money came from to fund his first project. It came from Apple’s father, Brock Ames. It was a payoff. But that’s all over now. Braden took care of it, and every bit has been paid back.
But there was another infusion of quick cash that didn’t come from Brock Ames.
It came from me.
“Does the name Conrad have any meaning to you?” the bartender asks.
Fuck.
I’ve had a lot to drink, but I’ve got to keep my cool. Keep my head.
“Can’t say it rings a bell.”
“I’m thinking it might.” He gazes at my face, my chest, back to my face. “Though you might be a little drunk.”
I poke him in the chest. “You get the fuck out of this resort.”
“I don’t work for you, Mr. Black. I work for the resort.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. You and I both know who’s paying your salary this weekend. So get the fuck out of here.”
“You sure that’s what you want?”
I meet his gaze, glaring at him as I’ve never glared at anyone before.
Except that man, all those years ago.
I truly thought it was over until Dirk came to me three months ago.
But I knew then, and I know now.
It’s far from over.
“Hey,” the barkeep says, “I’d be willing to let bygones be bygones. I’ll take whatever I know to the grave. If you put in a good word for me with the woman. The gorgeous one in black. I’m pretty sure I know her from somewhere.”
“Fuck off.” I grab my phone, make a call.
He’ll be gone by morning.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tessa
The moonlight glitters on the vast ocean, and I sink my toes into the sand, walking along the shore.