Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Perhaps it was a gift of sorts to be so comfortable all the damn time.
Julian didn’t have that ability, and his leg bouncing started double-timing again.
“You’re good, Julian. Why are you so nervous? You’ve already done the hard part.” Beckett’s thumb continued to caress the top of Julian’s hand.
Julian looked at Beckett as if he were insane, which honestly wasn’t off the table as a possibility. “Last night, I was trying to get you back. Today, it’s about a psychopath who tortured me. He’s out on the streets, Beckett. Who else has he hurt?”
He didn’t have one single qualm about leaving out his lifelong apprehension about police officers. He’d sucked off or been fucked by too many cops to get himself out of whatever offense they said he’d committed. There might be a decent officer out there somewhere, but he’d never met one.
Shit. Julian was losing his cool if he actively remembered his naughty antics back in his hometown.
Calm down. Julian narrowed his eyes, looking over at Beckett. Why did the voices inside his head sound like Beckett?
Beckett must have sensed his rising unease. He cupped his arm around Julian’s shoulders, drawing his temple to Beckett’s lips. Beckett kissed him sweetly. “I know, babe. This guy being out on the streets has been my fear since I found out what happened. Maybe try to think of something else. You look guilty of your own crimes.”
Julian flipped his irritated gaze to Beckett. Arching a brow, he gave his love the death stare he deserved. “My anxiety is through the roof, and you’re cracking jokes?”
“It wasn’t a joke.” Beckett’s smile said something entirely different. “Drink your orange juice and relax.” He nodded to the unopened bottle of juice from the vending machine down the hall, still sitting where Beckett had placed it along with the pack of little white donuts. Beckett ate like shit. “You’ve been through the hard part, giving your statement of what happened. After we talk to the investigators, we’re done. I’m sure they’re issuing an arrest warrant even as we sit here waiting. They’ll get the guy off the streets and prosecuted. Don’t worry.”
“Shit.” Julian’s gaze shifted back and forth between the donuts and the OJ, not seeing either one.
A trial would bring his past to his present.
His stomach gave a hard twist, and his leg came to an abrupt stop. His world stilled, thinking about the possibility of seeing his parents and siblings again.
He never wanted to see those hateful backwoods people again. They had caused him too much pain. Luckily, before he traveled too far down that warped path of thoughts, the conference room’s door opened. Two investigators dressed in street clothes came through the door. If their jobs were to blend in, they didn’t nearly reach their goal.
“Mr. Cullen?” the female said.
Julian didn’t remember her. He did recognize Detective Ryan as one of the first officers to speak with him when he’d regained consciousness in the hospital.
Beckett stood, causing Julian to stand on wobbly legs. He’d been too lost in downward spiraling memories, dwelling on the abuse and callousness of his family, to pay too much attention to her name. The hellfire and brimstone teachings of his religious family had caused their own damage and taken years to get past. Clearly, for Micah too. What that guy must have lived through as punishment for his perceived sins.
Julian sighed as Beckett let go of his hand to shake each of the investigators’ hands. He focused enough to hear Beckett explaining his presence, but mostly Julian’s heartbeat ran rampant, thumping loudly in his ears.
“Take a seat, please.” Detective Ryan nodded to the table. He held a couple of full file folders that he placed on the table in front of his seat, directly across from Julian. “You’ve been a hard man to reach.”
Julian’s gaze lifted to meet Detective Ryan’s direct stare as he rubbed his trembling hands together under the table. All the confusion and insecurity of those first few weeks after the assault settled over him again. The battle Julian had fought to bring himself back kept his lips tightly shut. Beckett reached over, his comforting hand sliding between Julian’s two palms to clasp their fingers together. Julian one-upped Beckett by wrapping both his hands around Beckett’s, his life preserver in this dark stormy ocean he was drowning in.
“We’re here this morning because Julian had a breakthrough last night. An officer took his statement,” Beckett started when Julian hadn’t spoken for a moment. “Have you seen it?”
Detective Ryan nodded and opened his folder. He didn’t sugarcoat anything or lead in slowly. Julian drew in a sharp breath as his gaze riveted to an eight by ten photo of Micah Abbott. He recognized him instantly. Though, the years hadn’t been kind. The youthful young man he’d once been had become something harder. His eyes were flat, filled with hate. He appeared mean and unyielding. He looked way older than his years. His face was ravaged, most likely by alcohol, drugs, and the skin art from a clearly amateur tattoo artist hadn’t helped. Julian tightened his hands around Beckett’s.