Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
That memory was just too much. Right there, next to the dance floor of their reception, he’d sealed my damn fate. I was destined to be this bitter old fucker who only lit up at the sight of his niece.
And what was I supposed to do? Hate my sister? I couldn’t do that. I’d once crossed the line and gone after the guy she’d been in love with, and my only excuse had been that he didn’t want her. He’d wanted me. So when he’d up and changed his mind, so many years later, I would’ve been a hypocrite to hold that against Piper.
Complicated fucking mess.
I took a swallow of the vodka, and it burned its way down my throat.
That night, when Joel had gotten drunk at his own wedding reception, I’d fucking lost it. I wasn’t one of those who’d grown up dreaming of having my own family. That feeling had snuck up on me after a number of PMC missions that’d left me miserable and alone. My marriage had fallen apart. I had no one to come home to. My ex-wife hadn’t been interested in having kids. But then I’d reconnected with Joel, and… Fuck, I’d been so stupid.
In the end, it didn’t matter. My flicker of a dream belonged to someone else, to my sister. And the day after the wedding, they’d left on their honeymoon to the Virgin Islands, and Joel had even insisted on bringing Blake, ’cause the family vision belonged to him and Piper.
Until they’d gotten divorced, I guessed. But it was more than I’d ever gotten.
Well. I had the divorce.
I forced myself to feed my hunger and ate straight from the hotel-fancy setup of cheeses, olives, marinated artichokes, crackers, and meats. Then I pulled out my phone, keeping my back to Joel—since I was clearly too weak to face him—and began a long text to the group.
I’d given them all the info. All the new intel. And now it was time for the next step.
JH and I start our journey toward Spain tomorrow. RT1 and RT2, you will stay in California and track the names listed above, anything that can lead to Gomez and Gajero, and then hopefully Carillo. JO and R, pack your bags. You’re going with us to Europe. I texted Squeezy already, and she will arrange for flights and hotels. You two will cover the Marseille area, while JH and I cover Valencia. The moment we find any leads, we’ll team up, the four of us. CF and RQ, Squeezy will give you your flight info first thing when she wakes up. You’re also going to France, from where you’ll drive to Monaco. DQ and GQ, let us know if you’re on board with safer tasks in Europe, or if you want to stay in California. We could use scouts and drivers. When we
“I’m going to bed,” Joel muttered.
I stopped typing and stupidly looked over my shoulder as he stripped off his jeans.
Of course he had nothing on underneath.
“You haven’t eaten since Navojoa,” I said.
“I’m not hungry.”
I clenched my jaw. Could he think a little further for once in his fucking life? He needed energy. He needed water. He needed to stay alert. Same goddamn story with tonight’s attack. Just running out on the dirt road, without a single thought about backup.
“You know, tonight—” I cleared my throat and turned toward him. “I was so goddamn impressed with you. Like Vincente said, you just don’t fucking miss, do you? I’ve never seen you in action before, so I guess I didn’t…” I shook my head and stopped before I went off on a tangent. “But running out without cover, claiming you didn’t give a shit about how many there were, was the dumbest fucking stunt you could’ve pulled.”
He turned to me too, stark naked, and his forehead creased as if he was confused. “Are you serious right now? I put my cards on the table again, you go quiet, then bitch at me for not eating, and now you wrap up a compliment in an insult about how shitty I am.”
That wasn’t—fuck, no, I wasn’t letting him derail me. “Before you paint yourself the victim here, reflect on what I actually said. This isn’t a Blake or Joel coming home situation. Sacrificing yourself for a lead that isn’t there is just gonna force Blake to grow up without her dad. Is that what you want?”
He let out a hollow laugh and apparently gave up. He lifted the covers and got into bed. “The first time you refer to me as her dad is when you’re laying into me. Just perfect. You know what—I knew exactly what I was doing out there tonight, and I’m not gonna let you tear me down again.”
Tear him down? I wasn’t tearing him down! I was trying to keep him alive!