Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
It seemed a bit excessive, but it’s what you have to do when you’re trafficking human beings on and off the premises. The thought sickened me, but because of that stupid security system, we had eyes on them—every single one of them. And not only that.
We also had recorded footage, enabling Bones and Big to go back and review every moment of every day—including the moment Demarco’s men were sent to get Mia. Other than that, there wasn’t much to see. Just a couple of guards at each location. They were monitoring the grounds, but none of them looked like they were preparing for an attack.
Bones leaned back in his chair with a disappointed huff. “Where the hell are they?”
“Their charter flew them to Mexico. That’s a five to six hour flight. Depending on when they leave...”
“And that’s if they fly in. It’ll be tricky with the cargo they’re carrying.”
“He’s got a point there.” Cotton let out a breath, then said, “We’re gonna have a long day ahead, and I’m gonna need you boys at your best. Go get a couple hours of shut-eye, and I’ll keep watch.”
“I’ll stay,” Big offered.
“Fine, but the rest of you go.” He motioned his head towards the door. “If we see something, you’ll be there first to know.”
We all exchanged glances, and it was pretty clear that none of us wanted to leave that room. But we knew better than to argue with Prez. Besides, he was right. We were going to have a hell of a fight on our hands, and we all needed to be at our best. Sadly, there was no way in hell I was going to be getting any sleep—not when my brothers and my woman were in danger.
I had no doubt that the Demarco brothers had faced many adversaries, but they’d never faced one like me.
They would soon regret ever stepping foot in Port Angeles.
I’d make sure of it.
CHAPTER 20
Mia
It had been a long night—a very long night.
Even after Wrath came to see me, I was still a bundle of nerves. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to shake the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach. The only time it seemed to ease was when I felt Wrath crawl into bed next to me. Then, and only then, my mind stopped racing, and I could finally relax enough to drift off to sleep.
Sadly, the anxious feeling returned the second I woke up and found myself in bed alone. I immediately started thinking about the night before. The pictures. Cody. The gunshots. The all-consuming fear that something might happen to Wrath. It was all too much. I simply couldn’t stand it for another second, so I got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a shower.
I didn’t have many options for clothes—just a few things I’d saved from high school, so I had to make do with a pair of distressed jeans and an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt. Once I was dressed, I brushed the tangles out of my wet hair and started to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I was just about to open my door when I spotted a note wedged in the frame.
I pulled it out, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw it was from Wrath.
Hey, sleeping beauty. Sorry I couldn’t stay. I’ll be back when I can.
I thought the whole Wrath coming back and getting in bed with me was just my mind playing tricks on me, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. I slipped the note into my back pocket and headed to get my coffee. When I got to the kitchen, there was already a pot of coffee brewing and fresh biscuits sitting on the stove, but there wasn’t a soul around. Even Jasmine and the rest of the club girls had made themselves scarce.
It felt strange being there all alone, so I decided to carry my coffee outside. I walked over to one of the picnic tables and sat under the shade of the towering oak tree, its leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze. I hadn’t been sitting there long when I spotted Wyatt walking in my direction.
There was sadness in his eyes that tugged at my heart as he sat down across from me. He had a high-functioning form of Asperger’s which was often a blessing and a curse. It’s what helped him with all his computer wizardry and just all-around smarts, but it made it difficult for him to communicate, especially when it involved something or someone he really cared about.
I could tell by the look on his face that something was troubling him, so I didn’t push. I simply sat there and waited as he took a deep breath, steeling himself and said, “I don’t have much time... but I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. Really sorry.”