Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“What happened to Wren? To your face?”
My hand instinctively moves to cover my scar. I take a deep breath, trying to keep it together.
“Tell me about that and you can text your sister.”
It doesn’t matter if he knows, does it? It just really doesn’t matter, and I don’t have the energy to fight him, not on this.
“I came home late after school one day. Found Wren unconscious. He was holding her head underwater in the tub. I tried to get him off her and he hit me so hard I smashed the mirror over the sink with my face.” I point to the scar. “He hit me again and I passed out. When I woke up, Wren was still in the tub, still unconscious. The water was freezing cold but at least she was breathing. He hadn’t killed her.”
“Your father?”
I nod. “He was angry about something. Scared maybe. I’d never seen him like that.”
“Where was he when you woke up?”
“Don’t know. Probably at the bar.”
“You took her to the hospital?”
“Not then. I didn’t realize what had happened to her. Two days later I took her. When she wasn’t the same and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. And then, when I did, I got us out of there.”
I’d been goofing off. I didn’t want to go home, that’s why I was late. I don’t say that part out loud. My part in what happened to my beautiful, smart sister. My mistake that cost her so much.
He holds out the phone.
I take it, play my sister’s message again. She sounds so young. I tell her the last of the joke. “Beets me,” I say and hit send, then hand the phone back to him because the fight has gone out of me.
He takes it, tucks it into his pocket and stands. He grabs the laptop, and the Ziploc then opens the bedroom door. “Come, Blue.”
“Where?”
“Downstairs. You need to eat.”
“Why?”
“So you don’t have one of your dizzy spells at the top of the stairs.”
“Don’t want to clean up a mess?” I ask half-heartedly.
He gives me a weary smile.
“What happens after?”
He raises his eyebrows.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask bluntly.
“You and I are going to come to an arrangement. For now. Up. You need to eat.”
“What arrangement?”
“You have information that could hurt me, hurt those I care about. And I have something you need.”
“What’s that?”
“Protection.” He must see my confusion. “From your father.”
I blink, not quite understanding. “I need protection from you if anyone.”
He smiles. “Isn’t your father up for parole soon?”
My throat goes dry, and I clutch my stomach. “They won’t let him out.”
“How can you be sure?”
I shake my head. I can’t be sure, but I have a plan if that happens. “Why would you want to help me?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I guess I have a damsel in distress complex.”
“I don’t need some knight in shining armor to save me. I can save myself.”
“Well, that’s questionable. And the only knight I am is dark.”
“Again, why would you help me?”
He shrugs his shoulder again. “I have selfish motives. You coming? You can stay here and starve, of course. Your choice.”
I weigh my options. It’s a quick decision because I have no options really. If I don’t hear him out, I get locked back in and what? Nothing. Or I go with him, maybe make some deal. Some arrangement. He hasn’t hurt me yet, not really. And if my father manages to get paroled, and he knows where I live, I’m going to need Zeke’s protection. He just doesn’t really know exactly what he’ll be up against.
12
Ezekiel
I lead the way downstairs, stopping in the study to drop off the laptop and the gun before heading into the kitchen. Cynthia is taking a casserole out of the oven as we enter the kitchen. When I smell the gnocchi in her signature sauce, my stomach growls.
“Cynthia, you remembered,” I say, and she smiles. It’s one of my favorite dishes.
“Of course I did. It’s good to see you back, Mr. St. James.”
She glances at Blue, giving her a polite smile before setting the casserole down on the counter.
“Would you like me to set a table?” she asks.
“No, that’s all right. I’m sure my brother is anxious to have you back.”
“I’ll come in the morning then. Salad is in the refrigerator and don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of it all tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Cynthia.”
“Goodnight.”
“Am I invisible?” Blue asks once she’s gone.
I gesture for her to take a seat at the counter where two plates are stacked.
“Cynthia understands the need for discretion.” I find a serving spoon and heap some of the gnocchi onto one of the plates and Blue’s stomach growls when I set it in front of her. “When was the last time you ate?” I ask as she digs in.