Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
"You weren't supposed to be involved in the Full Deck Killer’s case, Yarrow. You'll be sanctioned for this," he threatens, and I have no doubt he'll do his best to get me fired, but the man has made his very last threat.
"Sorry, baby," I tell her when I have to shift her weight to reach into my back pocket.
"What's this about?" he says when I hold out the government-issued badge.
"I quit," I snap.
He looks down at the badge in his hand as if I've just handed him victory. I have no clue why this guy has had it out for me the last couple of years. He probably doesn't have a clue I turned down his job so I could stay out in the field because I felt like I had more to offer the agency than sitting behind a desk.
"And your gun?" he says, a gleam in his eyes like I'd imagine he'd have on Christmas morning when he sits at the bar paying women to dance for him because he's a bitter, unlovable bastard.
"I've been with the Agency for thirty fucking years, dipshit. My issued weapon was decommissioned fifteen years ago."
I walk past him, no longer feeling the need to waste a second in his presence.
"You'll have to be debriefed," he snaps.
I turn partially to face him. "I'm not part of this case, Dale. I'm on vacation."
I feel Cora shudder in my arms, but when I look down, I see her chuckling.
"You'll never find another fucking job, Yarrow," he spits before I can turn back around and leave.
The man just has to have the last fucking word.
"He already has a job."
"Mr. Anderson," Cora says.
"He's Cerberus, and I'd like to officially withdraw our contract with the Immigration and Customs Enforcement." Kincaid dips his head in my direction. "Get her taken care of, Ace. We'll have a chance to talk later. I've got it from here."
"You can't just walk up and stick your fucking nose in government business," Dale says as we walk away.
"Is he going to get arrested?" Cora whispers.
"Kincaid?" I shake my head. "Dale won't have a job come morning time if they even attempt to put cuffs on that man. He's more connected than the fucking president."
"Ouch," she mutters when I reach for the door handle of a vehicle. "What's going on back at the house?"
Sadness is in her tone, and I hate that there will be long-lasting pain in this entire situation. Her brother turning into this man doesn't discount all the years she loved him, and I think the betrayal of it being someone she cares so deeply about will only make it worse. She has a long road of healing ahead of her, and unlike my own pain and regret I don't think I'll ever be over Noah, she doesn't have to face this alone. I'll be there if she lets me, every step of the way.
"Do you know about Faye?"
"We know about Faye and the roommate," I tell her. "We knew before you mentioned them earlier. I feel like I've been trying to get to you all damn day. I never should've left in the first place."
"What is this?" she asks again, referencing the cut on my cheek with tender fingers.
"A warning to stay away from you," I tell her, knowing I can't lie to her.
"Are you going to listen?"
My head is shaking before she finishes her sentence.
"Are you going to make that difficult for me?"
She huffs a laugh but then winces from the pain. "Do you want me to?"
I shake my head. "I'll fight for you, baby, but remember I'm fucking old. I'd rather not have to just for the sake of it."
"I don't want to go to the hospital," she says once we're on the road.
"It's not an option," I tell her. "As much as I want to get you alone and hold you in my arms, your health is too important. A quick check and we can find a place to crash."
There's no way she's going back to her house anytime soon.
"I need to speak with William," she says, but it doesn't sound like a conversation she's happy about having.
I can only imagine what's going through her head with everything that was revealed and what she went through today. My heart aches to take the pain and trauma from her.
The quick trip to the hospital turned into four hours of monitoring for a head injury by the hospital staff. She has bumps and bruises from falling, but other than that and the gnarly headache she'll have for a few days, she's okay.
Physically, she's mostly good, but I worry about the emotional side of it, wondering as I open the door to the hotel room if I shouldn't try and find a professional for her to speak with. I can comfort her, and assure her that I'm here for her, but I can't fix it. I know a therapist can't fix it either. This is just something she has to work through but I don't want to fuck her up even more by saying the wrong thing.