Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Jacob hands me the note. Even now, when our fingertips brush, a spark of electricity moves between us. It’s so out of place, especially when I read the note. I’ve taken a trip to Little Hope. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you the reason. I’ll be back soon.
“What the hell is he doing?” I yell, causing Rusty to bark. “What’s in Little Hope for him?”
“I don’t know,” Jacob grunts. “This is just a safe house. He’s never been here before, as far as I know. I don’t understand.”
“We have to go after him.”
Jacob shakes his head. “The snow’s too thick now. Your dad’s a capable man. If he’s got a destination in mind, he’ll get there. I’m not worried about his safety.”
“What about if the Cartel have found us? What if they get him?”
“They won’t,” Jacob snaps.
“You don’t know that.”
He turns away, hands on his hips, his back rising and falling. He even takes a small step toward the door like he wants to charge from here and go after Dad now, but he knows we can’t. He knows he has to keep us safe.
“There’s nothing to do now except wait for the weather to clear,” he says. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but Mike probably left hours ago. That’s why he said he was having a nap.”
“He lied to us.”
Jacob turns to me swiftly, a disbelieving look on his face. “He lied to us?”
“Not everything is about you and me,” I say. I lie because it doesn’t feel that way. Dad’s missing. That’s all I should be thinking about. Instead, there’s a little voice in my mind whispering that we’ll be alone now, just Rusty, him, and me, with no Dad to walk in on us.
“Maybe we’ll get a phone signal soon,” I go on when he doesn’t reply.
“Hopefully. If not, Mike will be okay. Like I said, your dad is a—”
“Your best friend is a capable man.”
Like a petty brat, I throw the best friend thing in his face and leave the room. If Dad goes out there and gets hurt, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. What sort of daughter spends her dad’s final days obsessing over his friend? Rusty follows me into the bedroom, hopping onto my bed when I lie down. I think Jacob must’ve bathed him. He smells fresh.
He whines and curls up next to me, squashing his body flush up against mine like he’s trying to comfort me. I bury my hands in his fur, praying Dad is okay and Mom isn’t too freaked by the lack of signal and communication. Jacob and I can resist each other, or can we?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RAFAEL
“You want to get him on US soil, Rafael? In Maine?”
The big boss likes to sit on a throne-like chair several steps above the main portion of his office. It’s a not-so-subtle way of letting everyone know how big and powerful he is: Mr. Big Boss, wearing no shirt and covered in tattoos, with several dead-eyed women clinging to him. I can tell the big boss looks down on me, but I keep several of his most important allies satisfied.
“He made a fool of the Cartel,” I say.
This room—gold rifles on the walls, framed photos of the Cartel with prominent political figures, and around twenty Cartel monkeys—suddenly feels far tighter. It’s like everything compacts. The big boss leans forward, his gold chain tinkling against his other jewelry.
“Not the Cartel,” he says.
“There were several Cartel men there,” I point out, wishing I could hurt somebody and inflict some serious damage so it would relieve some of the agony inside of me. Nobody will ever understand how badly I hurt inside because people think I’m a monster, but I’ve been a victim, too. As a child, I was beaten and bullied. Yet nobody weeps for Rafael. “People whisper, sir…”
“Do you think you’re important, Rafael?”
“No, sir,” I tell him, which is an utter lie. He would be down at least three allies if it weren’t for my operation. As much as he looks down on me, he needs me, at least for now. At least as long as I can be of some use to him.
“But you speak like such a grand, important man,” he says. “Does that seem reasonable to you?”
“I don’t mean to speak like that. I’m merely pointing out the obvious. He killed two of your men.”
“Because you fucked up. What were you doing, playing with him?”
“I was attempting to extract information.”
I say this as sincerely as I can. The truth is, the only way I learned to deal with inner pain is to turn it into outer pain. It’s a beautiful mechanism that works well, but only if the other person plays along. Everybody has. Every single person I’ve inflicted pain on, but not Jacob. These petty-minded men wouldn’t understand. They’d think there was something wrong with me. It’s all about money and respect for them. I don’t give a damn.