Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Why I am saving his life, I have no idea. But I have some vague idea that it isn’t just his life I’m saving, but mine. My soul. My conscience. Whatever’s left in me that’s humane and salvageable. I could kill him, and if he comes between me and Harper, I will. But for now, I knock him out.
“Don’t you come near me,” the pilot says, but his eyes are wide and fearful. I ignore him, stalk to the front of the craft, and slide my hand to the back of his neck. Warning. One fucking snap and he’s done. I won’t choke this asshole out but break his neck, and without regret.
“I know how to fly this,” I tell him.
“You’re fucking bluffing.”
“Want to test that theory?” I warn. I’m not bluffing. Flying a helicopter’s easier than one thinks. My best bud in the army flew a helicopter, and I spent countless hours with him. Learning. Mastering. It isn’t my strongest skill, but one I haven’t forgotten. My hope is that it doesn’t come to me having to fly this, but if it does, I’m ready.
“What do you want?” the pilot seethes.
“It’s simple,” I tell him with a shrug. “The name of the man behind this.”
His jaw tightens. My hand still on his neck, I reach for his gun that fell to the floor and point it at his temple.
“I know how to fly this,” I repeat. “If you tell me what I need to know, I won’t kill you.”
“How do I know that’s true?”
“I guess you don’t, do you?” I ask him nonchalantly. We’re two men sipping a pint in a pub for all the anger my voice registers. I’ve expended too much on the island. I’m not on the island anymore. I’m in control.
And this isn’t just me anymore. If there’s anyone hurting my girl...
“I guess it’s an act of faith then, isn’t it? But I’ll tell you this. You were sent to get me off that island. You know who I am. And you know I killed men on that island with no regrets.”
I know I’m right when he freezes. Knowing. Likely having watched the footage of the murder I’ve committed.
“What makes you think you’re any different?”
His eyes flicker real fear then, and he swallows hard.
“Cy, please—”
“Please what? Pretend my life wasn’t destroyed by some random act of betrayal? Pretend that you’re not complicit in my kidnapping, manipulation, and abuse? Pretend I’m somehow guilty, and not an innocent in this?” My voice hardens. “Pretend you didn’t just rip me away from the one woman I ever loved?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he doesn’t respond this time.
I cock his pistol and point it at his temple.
“Name.”
“Finley Morose,” he says, teeth still clamped together. I don’t know if he’s telling me the truth or not, but it’s a start.
The name means fucking nothing to me.
“Who is he?” I demand, shaking him by the scruff of the neck. He closes his eyes and braces himself when I shake him, then takes in a deep breath when I stop. This man has people he cares for. A thick gold band glints on the ring finger of his left hand. Are there little wallet-sized pictures of children in his wallet? He’s married, and he knows whether or not he returns home weighs in the balance of his answer to me.
“Deranged fucking billionaire,” he says. “Fancies himself some sort of modern-day genius. Manipulated several dozen people in the orchestration of this experiment. Is convinced that once everything’s revealed, he’ll get a Nobel Fucking Prize.”
“Once everything’s revealed? The kidnapping? The death? The manipulation?”
He doesn’t respond.
I breathe out an angry breath and shake my head. Son of a bitch.
“Who else?” I ask. There was more than a deranged billionaire behind this. I will find Morose, and he will pay for this. The pilot’s teeth clamp together, and he doesn’t speak. I won’t allow this, but if I hurt him, we could go down. I need him cognizant and on top of things here. I could fly this helicopter, but it would be my preference not to.
I press the gun into his temple. “Who. Else.”
He doesn’t answer. I inhale to calm myself. I have to either threaten him physically, which makes flying this fucking helicopter tricky, or find something of value to him. I look back down at the thick golden band he wears.
“You’re a married man,” I say to him. “You have someone at home who loves you, don’t you?”
The way his body stills is answer enough.
“What was in it for you?” I ask. I look down and realize his wallet’s in his back pocket. We won’t take a nosedive with a split-second distraction. So with one swift move, I push him against the control panel and take his wallet.
“Hey!” he protests, reaching for me, but the helicopter swoops and his hands immediately go back to the panel.