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)
“Okay, Dad.”
He tilts his head, seeming surprised, but lets it go.
“How’ve things been here?” Dad asks, looking at Jacob.
“There’s been movement,” Jacob says.
“Wait, movement as in, uh, contact?”
“It’s okay, Dad,” I tell him. “I already know. Does anybody want coffee?”
I start brewing some as Dad and Jacob sit at the table. Jacob tells Dad that there’s a Cartel man in Pilgrim’s Peak. “He’s the one who hired the American goons,” Jacob explains. “He doesn’t know he’s been made yet.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Dad asks.
“I’ve got a few ideas. I need to see if some things fit together first.”
“So you don’t want to tell us until everything’s in place,” Dad says.
“These are dangerous, ruthless bastards. If it comes down to the wire, I need to limit the leaks, limit the danger.”
“I get it,” Dad sighs darkly. “Until I can do something, there’s no point.”
“The only thing that matters is keeping you both safe.”
“I thought you were going to chew my goddamn head off,” Dad says as I place the mugs of coffee down. “For leaving like that.”
“You had your reasons,” Jacob says.
“Wait a second,” I cut in. “Do you know why Dad left?”
Jacob looks at me, his lips flattening. “Uh…”
“Yes,” Dad says quickly. “Sorry. I don’t want to make you lie, Jacob. I told him, Emma. I asked him not to tell you. I’m making such a mess of this. I just…” He grips the table, trembling. “I don’t know what to do.”
Suddenly, I’m on my feet. I won’t let the tears form in my eyes. I feel them trying to bead and make me weak and pathetic, but I fight them off. Dad thinks I’m almost crying because he lied, but it’s Jacob, knowing what a messed-up position we’re in—lies upon lies upon lies.
“I just need some rest,” I say. Truthfully, I need to run and get as far from this guilt and confusion as I can.
When I leave the room, Rusty walks at my side as if he thinks I need the company. I go into the bedroom and close the door behind me, sitting on the bed and pressing my hands on my knees. My heart is hammering hard like it’s attempting to hurt my chest. My mind bursts with a slideshow of the past day, from the sex to the safe room and now this.
Rusty whines and leaps into my lap, almost like he’s forgotten his size. He rubs against me like he’s telling me it will all be okay. I run my hands through his fur, fresh from yesterday’s shower.
“What should I do, boy?” I whisper, imagining a scenario where I put on my big girl pants, march out there, and scream at Dad about what we did and what I want to do again.
“I wish we were still trapped.”
Lying back on the bed, I close my eyes and think of last night, the wind outside, the howling, letting us sink closer together and letting the guilt wash away. We were able to shut it all down and turn it off. Now, that’s not an option. What are we supposed to do, then? Forget how we feel? Pretend we don’t want each other?
Jacob says we’ll handle this when this is over, but what does that even mean? How can we sort this out? What can we do? Whenever I try to think of the future, I only see disaster. If the Cartel doesn’t get us, the guilt will finish the job.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JACOB
“I’m being a selfish ass,” Mike says, staring down into his mug of coffee. “You know it, Jacob. Don’t lie to me. Leaving like that, but what are the chances you’d pick here? You didn’t know, did you?”
“No,” I tell him. “I had no clue. I don’t spy on you, Mike.”
“Last night was… It changed me. It really changed me. It was worth the snow, but it wasn’t worth leaving you to handle this mess alone.” He looks up at me, the years melting away, suddenly the young man he was when we drove back from an op together. “I should’ve been here. We should’ve done that together.”
“I understand,” I tell him.
“You’d never do that. You wouldn’t make the choice I did.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I growl. “Maybe I’ve just never had the right motivation.”
He sighs. “Thank you, Jacob, for keeping my little girl safe.”
It’s natural for a father to talk about his child like this, but it still makes me cringe inwardly. She’s not a little girl anymore. She hasn’t been that since before her graduation party. Last night, she was the furthest thing from that. She was sex and steam and temptation and perfection. She was everything.
“Were you seen?” I ask.
“No,” he tells me. “Nobody knows where I went unless they watched every exit and entrance to town after sunset. Even then, I was in a car.”