Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Eric squeezes my knee. “You’re protecting her. We’re protecting her. Every time you get the chance, you remind me how important protecting her is to you.”
“But I wasn’t there for her today. I didn’t—”
“You were attacked and almost killed. That was less than twenty-four hours ago and even then, you were worried about her. You have not thought of yourself at all. She’s safe. The medication will help her cope and as a bonus, the sedation keeps her there with Adam.”
“Adam’s a badass,” Savage chimes in. “This isn’t a bad thing. It’s good. He’ll keep her safe and cozy. They’re going to be so safe and cozy they’ll have cookies and cocoa when she wakes up. You can bet on it.”
I know he’s trying to make me laugh. I do and I appreciate it, but it’s not going to work. Not when the magnitude of being hunted and forced into hiding has set in. Eric squeezes my knee again and when I don’t look at him, he leans across me, his cheek pressing to my cheek, his lips at my ear. “We’re going to get through this. We’re going to protect your mother.”
“But not, I fear, without her suffering,” I whisper.
He pulls back to look at me, still leaning over me, creating the façade of being alone. “Then we’ll help her recover.” It’s not a sugarcoated reply. It doesn’t promise me everything is going to be peachy for my mother. She’s in love with his father, after all. No one knows more than Eric how much pain his father can cause. No one knows more than Eric that I can’t save her from some parts of this.
He strokes a strand of my hair behind my ear, repeating his promise. “We’ll help her and we’ll do it together. You have my word.” His phone buzzes with another text message and reluctantly Eric eases back into the seat and scans the incoming message, while I savor that word “together” and the raspy, affected tone he’d spoken it in, for just a few seconds longer.
Seconds that end as Eric announces, “Isaac wants to talk.” He sticks his phone back in his pocket. “I’m going to let him squirm.”
“What if squirming makes him do something stupid?”
Savage halts us in front of Eric’s building. “Adam will be there to kick his ass. Blake said he’s waiting on a text from you two.”
“We need to shoot him a photo of the message on the back,” Eric explains.
I pull it from my pocket and hand it to him. He turns it over and when he would shoot a photo, he goes still, suddenly more stone than man. He’s just staring at that combination of numbers and letters, and while he’s not moving or reacting, I have a sense that it’s familiar to him and not in a good way. “What is it?” I ask, grabbing his arm. “What does that mean to you?”
He doesn’t look at me. He shoots a photo and sends it to Blake, then sticks his phone and that card inside his pocket. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says, reaching for the door, and opening it. He actually gets out of the SUV and he still has not looked at me. I’m right. He knows what that message means and it’s a problem for him. It’s a problem for us. A big enough one that he doesn’t want to tell me. Maybe he doesn’t plan to tell me at all, but that’s not happening. He’s not only going to tell me, he’s going to tell me the minute we’re alone.
Chapter eighty-seven
Harper
Eric and I step into the elevator and Savage actually tries to follow us inside, but I’m not having it. I rotate on him and point. “No. I need to talk to Eric alone. Go take care of the truck or something.”
“One of my men—”
“You aren’t getting on this elevator, Savage,” I say.
He holds up his hands and backs away. The doors shut and Eric keys in the security code to his floor. I rotate to face him. He stares down at me, his eyes hooded, shielding him from my probing stare, and I don’t believe this is an accident.
“I know you know what it means.” It’s all I say, all I can say about the message on the back of the business card when I’m certain that we’re being recorded.
His hands come down on my arms and he pulls me to him. “Not here. Not now.” His voice is low, rough, an edge to him now that is one-part power, one-part anger, and I’m not sure why.
I rest my palm on the hard wall of his chest, and his heart thunders under my touch. He might seem cool and calm on the outside, but he’s not. “You know what it means,” I whisper. It’s not a question. It’s a fact. He knows. I know he knows.