Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to squeeze away the bombardment of flashbacks. “He was on his own personal mission. That personal mission was screwing up everything. People were paying me to keep them out of cuffs and your boyfriend was killing them left and right.”
“He wasn’t my boyfriend then,” I say flatly, feeling her studying me. “I was engaged. Had a great career. A mom and a dad.”
“It’s all his fault, Beau Bear,” she whispers. “He fucked it all up.”
“How?”
“I couldn’t catch him,” she grates. “I knew who he was, but I couldn’t catch him. He was getting so close to finding out who killed his family. Who I was. I had to make sure that never happened.”
“So you blew me up.”
“No, Beau. God, no.” She takes my hand, and I snatch it away on a sharp inhale, feeling like I’m being burned all over again. “I planted The Snake. Planted the message on the burner phone that said I was in danger. He was supposed to come to me first. But he came for you instead.”
My God, what am I hearing? I close my eyes, trying to replay that tragic, unbearable night that’s haunted me for years. What I was so sure happened is suddenly fuzzy. Unclear.
“In that moment,” Mom says. “When you got too close to the car and he saved you, I had no choice but to die.”
And as a result, my entire world went up in smoke. Literally. Didn’t she consider the consequences for me? The pain and hurt? I feel a lump building in my throat, and it infuriates me. I sit up in an attempt to dislodge it, staring at her grave. “Who the hell have I been talking to for all these years?” I ask, staring at the empty hole in the ground where I had what was left of her buried.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I paid someone to make sure there was something to find in the car and make sure it wasn’t identifiable.” I close my eyes, breathing in, praying that when I open them, I won’t be here. I open my eyes. I’m still in the cemetery. “I was so fucking angry he forced my hand,” she goes on, sounding like a fucking victim. I can’t bear it. “He made me die. Took you away from me. And the corruption and power spiraled and spiraled.” She laughs, and that makes me want to hit her. “And the money came. And the need for revenge grew.”
I look at her, vacant, but on the inside, I’m gawking at her like she’s lost her mind. James took me away from her?
“But then he started pursuing you. Using you to get to me.”
“There was no name in the safety deposit box, was there? Only James’s name. You emptied the box.”
“I needed to make it look legit.”
“Have you any idea what you’ve done?” I ask. “Truly? The lives you’ve ruined?” Including mine. Your daughter’s.
“He couldn’t have you if I couldn’t.”
I exhale on a suppressed whimper. “He fixed what you broke.” I stand and move away from her, unable to process this endless barrage of shitty facts. “You have blackmailed, murdered, blown up buildings. All just to get James?”
“Just? He destroyed my life. Our lives!”
“You destroyed his first!” I scream. She flinches. But she doesn’t see what I see. “You blew up a restaurant when I was inside.”
“You were not inside, Beau. You were on the sidewalk, I made sure of it.”
“You drugged me in the bank, Mom.” Mom. It feels like an inadequate word. Monster. “Why would you drug me? Take me to Ollies?” My hands find my hair and clench, trying to suppress the pain building in my head.
“God damn it, Beau, it was all for you! For us, so we can be together again.”
I inhale, standing back. “You left my tracker on so James would know where to find me.” My God. “You were going to kill Ollie and frame James. Because Ollie worked out you killed Dad and Cartwright.” That’s why Ollie was apologizing. His last words to me. I’m sorry. He was sorry for not telling me. For hiding it. For trying to shield me from the shitty truths. She was going to have James killed by lethal injection.
“Your Dad was a disgusting sack of shit. A stupid man.” She throws a heavy hand up, angry by the mention of my father. It’s ironic. His name used to spike the same reaction from me. Now? I don’t know how I feel about him now. His last move was to try and protect me from the truth like Ollie. Does that make him a hero?
Mom looks away, like she could be ashamed. It’s a joke. “I always said you were a talented cop.”
“I take after my mother,” I say, and she looks at me. “Unfortunately. How did Dad find out you were alive?”