Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I trail my gaze down to her neck, landing on a necklace with a tiny silver bird attached to it. A fucking hummingbird? I hate those damned birds because they remind me of my mother. At that thought, my eyes automatically drift to the framed picture on the side of my dresser.
“Did your guy give that to you?” I ask, picking up the tiny charm.
She stiffens and her breath hitches as my fingers graze the skin at the base of her throat. “No,” she breathes, refusing to look at me. “My sister did.”
I drop the charm, and swallow. “You have a sister?” Fuck! This is making her a person, Jude. Fucking stop talking to her.
She looks up slowly, her big, round eyes locking with mine for a moment. I can see the indecision cross her expression before she speaks. “Yeah. Lizzy.”
“I miss her so much.” She’s talking to herself, not to me.
“That’s mine in that picture over there, with my mother.” I point to the frame. My pulse picks up and heat washes over my face. Why the hell did I just say that?
She stares at the photograph for a second before moving to the dresser and picking it up.
“They’re beautiful. You look so much like your sister, more so than Caleb,” she murmurs.
I don’t normally talk about them, but the words fall from my lips before I can stop them. “She died fifteen years ago, along with my mom. Caleb was only five at the time.” I tighten my fists and inhale as an uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “My mum died three years ago. I felt like my whole world imploded. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” I don’t want to feel anything, but her words have a sincerity about them that make it hard not to feel something. I have to look away because her eyes are fucking bottomless, and I feel stripped bare when she looks at me. It’s like she knows the weakness that’s festering inside me, only she doesn’t see it as weakness because, in her world, it isn’t. Having a fucking heart in her world is normal, whereas in mine, it will get you killed.
“Mine were murdered. And this right here”—I wave my hand around the room—“it’s all I have left. You asked whether I wanted something better for myself; I do. I want to be the man who fucking makes that guy pay back everything he cost me. Call me a criminal if you want.”
For the first time, she doesn’t look at me with absolute disgust. She nods. “I can understand that.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “If there were someone to blame for my mum’s death, I’d want revenge.”
I release a tense breath. I can’t do this. This is too real. This is not the situation I need to be in. I fucking feel sorry for her. Fuck! This is the last thing I should be doing, talking to her, connecting over our fucking dead mothers.
Her eyes meet mine. She looks hurt, and my natural instinct is to console her. No wonder Caleb gave in to her. There’s something about her that makes me instinctively want to protect and shelter her. The longer I study her, the more real she becomes. I know she has a family that’s worried about her; she has a life she’s worked hard for. She has dreams, and I’m about to crush every fucking one of them. I have no choice. I may make my living from gambling, but when it comes to my own life, I don’t take chances. My pulse is throbbing in my neck and my mouth is completely dry. I have to swallow, then force my eyes away from hers. Shit. I just need to get the hell away from her before she makes me pity her even more, or worse, she begins to pity me.
“Okay, well. I’ll see what I can do about getting you back to your boyfriend as soon as he fucking pays me my money.”
She presses her lips together, shutting down again. Without another word, I stand and cross the room. This shit just got far too real.
I’m standing on the porch, mulling over everything when Marney’s truck pulls into the drive. He opens the door and grabs a paper grocery bag from the cab of the truck, whistling as he leisurely makes his way up the stairs. “Smith’s money,” he says, handing me the bag. It’s heavy, about twenty grand. I drop it to the porch and lean over the rail. He glares at me, tilting his head inquisitively. “Little shit hasn’t paid, has he?”
“Of course not.” I trace my fingernail along a groove in the wooden rail.
“Mmm.” He thumbs over his stubble. “It’s been four days, Jude. What you waiting on?”
Shaking my head, I groan. “I don’t fucking know.” I’ve thought about how to handle this for hours. I know when I send someone to collect from Euan, Joe’s guys will most likely be there. And I know that the moment I hand her back to him, I’m fucked. Whether she works for him or not, he will get information from her, and she knows far too much already. She knew too much the moment she set foot in my house.