Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
“No, but there are so many books,” she says. “It’s going to take forever. We need more time.”
“I’m going to have Savage’s team take over. Let’s head back.” I glance at my watch again. “In fact, let’s make this our morning jog, out of the need to cut time off the trip back.”
“I’m all in,” she says. “I need to pay for the pastries I’ve been eating.”
She slides a book back into place and crosses to stand in front of me. “Jax—”
I cup her face and lean in to kiss her. “We have much to talk about, baby. Just not now. Okay?”
“Yes. Right. The time. Of course.”
I catch her hand and lead her through the house, shooting Savage a text to meet me at the brunch, as we walk down the steps to the beach. Once we’re there, Emma and I waste no time doing what we’ve started doing to start most mornings: we run. But on this particular morning, it feels like we are running right at the devil. And she might just be wearing a red dress, after all.
Ten minutes later, we’re back at the beach house. In another ten, we’re in the shower together, and while I don’t talk to her about what’s on my mind, the ghosts of my past are right here with us. Time is limited, but I damn sure make enough of it to press her against the shower and press inside her. It’s not soft and tender love making, either. It’s a hard, fast, emotionally-driven fuck and release, and thank you, Lord, she’s right there with me. The woman gets me. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t push me. She just fucks the hell out of me and then grabs the shampoo like it didn’t even happen.
I almost laugh.
Almost.
There’s too much spinning out of control to get me there, though.
It’s time to take control. I keep saying that, and I need to end the talk. Action is in order and that means I’m not going to be gentle outside this shower either.
For brunch and my afternoon meetings, I dress in suit pants and a blue button-down collared shirt without a tie, while Emma wears dress pants and an emerald green blouse that matches her eyes. Funny how I don’t remember noticing the color of any woman’s blouse before Emma. But then, Emma is not any other woman. She’s the one woman who matters. The one who woke me up in ways I didn’t even know I needed to be woken up. And for her, I will try to find a way to fight this war with her brother, without the damage I might otherwise have caused him.
Because I still believe he had something to do with Hunter’s death.
When the doorbell rings, I leave her in the bathroom, finishing up her makeup to find Savage at the door. This time I exit to the porch, welcoming the privacy. I pull the door shut and Savage gives me a quick look, and clearly, reading my mood on the money, says, “Someone didn’t have their Fruity Pebbles this morning.”
I ignore the comment that doesn’t merit a response. “What have you found out about my mother?”
“I’ll have an update today,” he says. “What don’t I know?”
“Echo was obsessed with her.”
He arches a brow. “Is this common knowledge?”
“No.” My lips thin. “I never knew. None of us did, but my brothers and I were all kids when she left. My father trusted him. But the bottom line here is that I found a photo album on his bookshelves with an excessive number of photos.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Are we thinking that she didn’t actually leave of her own free will?”
“My father was not a gullible man, but he didn’t know about this obsession. I’m sure of it. And he believed she left willingly, but I don’t want to rule anything out. I’m also concerned about Echo’s anger toward Emma. If he was jealous of her father, then his comments about knowing who she is feel far more ominous.”
“Agreed, but why be jealous of her father and not yours?”
“I don’t pretend to know. Maybe he thought she was leaving my father for him and then found out she was pregnant with Hunter. There are only two people we know who can tell us: Echo and my mother.”
“And at least one of them might be dead. Echo still hasn’t used his phone, and it’s not pinging. To be clear, to us that means that he ran and wiped himself off the map, or someone else did it for him.”
“I assumed as much.”
“We’re doing what we can do,” he says. “Change of topic. What about Chance’s promise to come after you if Emma isn’t out of here in seventy-two hours?”
“Strike first, as Emma’s father used to say. Stick to my plan.”