Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
He doesn’t reply. Or look at me.
The house sounds peaceful for once. Quiet.
I breathe slowly. “You and Army sold drugs in order to pay the bills after your parents died?” I repeat another story I heard.
Still, nothing.
“You keep the alligators well fed?”
His mouth twitches, and I see it. The smile as he stares at his food, taking another bite.
A shot of pride hits me.
I continue. “In the tall grass field just before the bay, overlooking Del Mia Island, you allow duels,” I press on with another rumor.
He shakes his head, amused.
I dip my fork in and out of my dish. “There’s treasure concealed in some of the graves at Santa Maria Cemetery.”
Still no comment.
“You cut yourself and make people drink your blood to prove their loyalty,” I tell him.
His chest shakes. I think it’s a laugh, but not a sound escapes. He takes another bite.
“You have a harem of wives?” I question.
He cocks a brow, and I can feel the eye roll even though he doesn’t let it out.
“And every girl,” I tell him, “on her eighteenth birthday, has to be submitted to you for first refusal.”
“Jesus fucking Christ …” he whispers to himself.
“And they also say you secretly own parts of St. Carmen.” Finally, he looks at me. “Like real estate?”
“Like people. Some of the children are yours, they say. You have a plan to breed us out.”
He can’t stop himself. He laughs, bowing his head, still holding his fork. Then he looks at me, disbelieving. “What the fuck?” He scoops up another bite. “I sound like the devil.”
I’m glad he’s smiling. I’m sure he was aware of some of what people say about him, and he was probably never offended by it. Macon knows people are stupid. He always knows that when you make yourself rarely accessible, they’ll make up stories about you. That worked in his favor. An air of mystery feeds fear, and fear is power.
I fill my fork. “No matter what I heard, I never thought you were a monster,” I say. “It’s nice for Clay to have a father willing to pay whatever it takes to protect her, but I was always fascinated with Liv, having you willing to do anything to feed her. Without even meeting you, I knew you’d bleed for her.”
He looks at me, and a nerve shoots from my heart down to my stomach.
“And I only ever believed the first three things,” I tell him, smiling.
He grabs the salt and douses his dish with it. “Just keep your ass out of the cemetery, okay?”
I laugh, seeing his half smile and light eyes. Lighter than I’ve ever seen them.
And I know then and there that I won’t give this family up until I know that someone is loving him. Until he’s in her arms.
20
Krisjen
I brush my teeth, rubbing the steam off the mirror. The shower runs, and I’m running late. I quickly spit toothpaste into the sink, and then brush some more. A hickey colors the skin just above my collarbone, and my tank top is stretched out from Army’s hands underneath it. I smile to myself as I spit again. It’s nice to be with someone who’s kind. Affectionate in public. Gentle.
Trace stumbles through the door, his eyes half-hooded, and his dark hair sticking up in every direction. He flips up the toilet seat, his abs flexing as he fumbles with his zipper and starts pissing right in front of me.
I stop brushing mid-stroke. “Seriously?”
He opens one eye, peering over at me. “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he mumbles.
Ugh. I spit. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”
Dallas chuckles, walking in and grabbing his toothbrush. Squeezing on some toothpaste, he scrubs his teeth next to me, both of us alternating using the faucet and rinsing out our mouths.
I set my toothbrush in the cup. “I have to get the kids to school.”
“Already covered,” Trace says, fastening his jeans and flushing.
He squeezes the back of my neck in some kind of endearing little hug without washing his damn hands.
“Are you sure?” I ask him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
He’s heading into St. Carmen anyway, I guess.
“Thank you,” I call out as he leaves, stretching his arms over his head and yawning.
“I’ll be back for dinner,” Dallas says, sticking his toothbrush in the cup. “Can you make that sandwich I like?”
“I’ll tell Mariette.” I twist off the cap of the mouthwash. “I’ll be out.”
“Where are you going?”
But I take a swig right out of the bottle before I can answer.
The shower shuts off as I swish, and the curtain flies open. Macon fastens a towel around his waist.
I glance over, only long enough for the mouthwash to dribble out of my mouth a little. The cuts of the muscles in his arms and shoulders glide in smooth lines, and his long torso, narrow waist, and tawny skin are a couple of shades darker than mine. His dark wet hair drapes to a point between his eyes and down his nose, and his eyebrows make him look amazing when he’s angry. I kind of want to piss him off right now.