Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Do you even know how crazy that sounds? What does that even mean?”
“He’ll know what it means.”
“Okay,” I say, though it’s not okay. We’re not okay, at least not right now. So much so that when my phone buzzes with back-to-back text messages, I act out of character. I curl my fingers into my palms to stop myself from reaching for it. I’m quite aware of the fact that Kane’s going to erupt if I present him that kind of distraction from me right now.
As if proving my point, he presses his elbows on his knees and lowers his chin. “Damn it, Lilah,” he mutters under his breath as if I’m not right here, ready for whatever the “damn it” indicates is coming at us.
I sigh in utter frustration.
He straightens and rounds on me. “Do not sigh like that at me. He’s not like anyone you have faced. Not even the Umbrella Man, Lilah. Ghost is a ghost. I can’t just go kill him before he kills us. And yet, that is exactly what has to happen.”
“He wants Elsa. We find her, we find him.”
“You think, which is assuming, and that’s not like you. And that’s the exact fuckup that’s going to get you killed. Nothing with Ghost is what it seems. For all you know, killing Mark wasn’t about Elsa at all. It was about you.”
“Or you. What’s between you and Ghost, Kane?”
He stares at me for several heavy beats and then shifts gears. “Take us home, Kit.” In other words, there is much to say, and none of it in public.
Alright then.
He and Ghost have more of a history than I ever considered. What is it, and why hasn’t Kane told me about it before now? More secrets, obviously, but is something I simply had no need up to this point of knowing really a problem? I suspect there are many things I’m in the dark about where his past comes into play, and I have to be careful about a demand to know all that reverts rather than faces forward. I’m a reasonable person, no matter who lies otherwise.
We don’t speak the remainder of the short ride, and by the time we’re at the house, my phone has gone off a dozen times that I’ve been forced to ignore. I’ve also replayed my interactions with Ghost with a perspective that places him at the bottom of my priority list. I’m antsy, ready to get out of this vehicle and inside Purgatory.
We arrive at our house to find my brother already past the gate and at the front door, no doubt compliments of his badge and Kane’s men, who seem to be present in excess. Wonderful. It’s a party, and everyone is looking for all the devious ways Ghost could kill us when he chose not to even try with me.
It’s illogical, but here we are. Living the good life.
The minute the SUV halts, I reach for the door, and Kane reaches for me, his hand coming down firmly on my arm. “Wait, Lilah,” he bites out.
I’ve had about enough of his alpha, arrogant, bossy self right now, and I face off with him, ready for battle. “I’m not leaving my brother to search our house. I don’t even want him to know you’re worried, Kane. He’ll lose his shit and freak the fuck out. As if either of us can take that kind of energy right now.”
Kit exits the vehicle and slams the door shut behind him.
Kane shockingly clenches his teeth and releases me without so much as a grunt. I guess the idea of dealing with my brother when he’s in overload was all he needed to reconsider getting any further into this with me until my brother is gone. I get it. Andrew’s Jay on steroids, and that’s a circus at best, performed by one person who I can’t believe came from the same womb as me at times.
I shove open the door and step outside, luckily on the opposite side of the vehicle from the house and out of view. With that shelter in place, I don’t rush away, waiting on one last word with my dear, loving, oh-so-reasonable husband. Husband dearest joins me with an attitude with so much bite I’m surprised he doesn’t grow fangs, but I approve. “Keep that up,” I encourage.
His scowl deepens, proving the impossible possible, and I swear it’s carved from the bowels of Hell by the devil himself. “Keep what up?”
“Your attitude is a good way to get rid of my brother, and hallelujah for it. Especially since I know what he wants.”
“Which is what?”
“For us to decide if we’re going to warn my father about Ghost vowing to kill him or just let Ghost kill him.”
“What do you want, bella?” His voice has softened, a rasp in his tone, a hint of accent lacing the endearment.