Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“The flash drive, that’s the last lie you’re telling me. Is that clear?”
My heart thuds against my chest, a sensation of a thousand butterflies fluttering their wings in my stomach.
“I—”
“Is that clear?”
I nod, unable to formulate words.
“Good. Then that’s finished. Eat.”
I drop my gaze to the sandwich, nod, a sense of relief washing over me. It’s finished. That’s it. He wants truth. I can give him that. I owe it to him.
Zeke watches me as I devour the sandwich. I’m starving.
“Should I make you another one?” he asks as I swallow the last bite.
I shake my head. “No. Well, maybe in a minute.” I study his face, take in the bruise along his jaw. We sit in silence, and it feels right. The quiet suits us.
I shift my gaze to his lap, take in the bruised knuckles of his hands. I study them, touch them. I feel him shudder when I do but he doesn’t pull away. These same hands that took such care of me committed the most violent of acts last night.
His right hand is his dominant hand. I pick it up, hold it, turn it over to study it. To trace the lines, feel their strength.
My gaze moves to his and I find him watching me, those wolf-like eyes intent on me. Butterfly wings go wild in my stomach again.
“Why did you come for me?” I ask, feeling a loneliness more acute than anything I have ever felt, a longing for something I cannot name as I ask my question. Because why did he come for me? He could have left me. Walked away. Problem solved. He had the flash drive. If I were dead, and I would be now if it wasn’t for him, I know that, then he could go back to his life and forget the little blip that was the catastrophe of me.
“That’s a stupid question.”
“Not really.” I shrug a shoulder, pull my hands away and push my hair behind my ears.
I recall asking him to make love to me.
Love.
Love.
God. What was I thinking? “I mean, think about it. You found the flash drive. The files that are missing are on that drive. You know it. Why else would I have it? So, you don’t come for me, you let Hoxton have me, do what he wants to me—”
A low growl resonates from his chest. I’m not sure it’s a conscious sound he’s making. His hands turn to fists. Hands of a killer. My avenger.
I look up at him. “Why did you come, Zeke?”
“What do you want me to say, Blue?”
I study his eyes. They’re beautiful. So beautiful. So much depth in those eyes. So many layers to this man.
My heart races. Can he hear it? Is his racing too?
“You asked me to make love to you last night,” he says. I shift in my seat, pick up my dish to slip away. He doesn’t let me, though. “You asked me to make love to you, Blue.”
I clear my throat. My cheeks are burning.
“Look at me,” he says. I shake my head, so he takes my chin and turns my face up to his.
“You need to keep something in mind with me. I come with baggage. Too much of it. I can’t make love. You need to make sure you remember that. Do you understand?”
I can’t hold his gaze, not when he sees me because he does see me. He sees right into my heart.
And he’s letting me know that his is off limits.
“Do you understand?” he repeats.
I nod, slip out of his grasp, and take my dish to the sink. Keeping my back to him, I switch on the water so he can’t hear me sniffle as I try hard, so fucking hard, not to cry. What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck am I thinking? What could a man like him want with a woman like me?
“You mentioned Girard,” he says once I’ve shut off the water. I search in the cabinets for a towel. I find a stack and wipe my face quickly as I steel myself to face him.
It’s a struggle to meet his gaze. I’m embarrassed. I’ve just been rejected, and we both know it.
“Blue?”
“Girard was his boss. He called Hoxton twice. He was supposed to take me to him, but he was buying time. Waiting for his brother to come so they could take what they thought they were due before delivering me to Girard.” That hardens me. That memory. My impending rape.
The doorbell rings and I startle. Zeke must be expecting it, though, because when the front door opens, he simply stands and takes his phone out.
“Zeke?” It’s Jericho. I recognize his voice.
“In here.”
Jericho and Robbie enter the kitchen. Robbie says hello then asks for a glass of water. Jericho studies me, but he doesn’t speak. I’m very aware of the thick, ugly scar on my face and wish I’d put on some makeup because he is openly taking in the damage while Zeke gets Robbie the water.