Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“You did what now?”
“You heard.”
“And what about…” Her words fade to nothing, though I still hear them, loud and clear, deafening me.
“I’m working on it. I’ve called Abbie.”
“Fuck me, Jake.”
“Thanks, but you’ve never been my cup of tea.”
“Fuck you.”
I smile. “Original.”
“I like to keep things simple and to the point.” She sniffs.
“I have something I need you to do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to watch Cami for me when we’re back in town. I have a few things to do.”
“I’m not a babysitter, Jake. That’s your job, remember?”
“You’re the only person I trust, Luce. Don’t be a bitch about it.”
“Fine!” she huffs, probably throwing me evils over the phone.
“Thanks. I’ll call you later.” I hang up and slide my phone down my cheek, nibbling on the edge in thought.
It vibrates and chimes against my lip, notifying me of the arrival of an e-mail, and I open to find a voice recording from Logan. Interested, I play it, hearing a conversation between Logan and another younger man, who I recognize as Sebastian. The conversation is short and sweet. Logan offers him money. Sebastian accepts, agreeing to drop the charges against me immediately. That kid must have cost Logan hundreds of thousands.
It’ll do. He works fast; I’ll give him that. Anyone would think he’s a desperate man.
Time to go sort out this mess.
Chapter 28
CAMI
The dread that engulfs me as we drive down Edgeware Road into the city the next morning is bordering crippling. I’m constantly glancing down at my fading makeshift ring to remind myself everything is going to be fine. Jake has said so, and I’m clinging onto his words with all I have.
I just want all this awful, bad feeling to be over. I want everyone to get along and be happy. It’s a big hope.
Jake has been quietly pensive for most of the journey. I can tell by the way he smiles at me each time he catches me studying him that he’s trying to fill me with ease. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s failing.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to sound casual when on the inside I’m begging him to take me back to the bluebell woodland.
“To your place.” He says it with an ease that should probably chase away my apprehension. Yet it doesn’t.
“My place?”
“Yes, unless you want to go to my place?” He looks across the car at me, waiting for my answer.
I don’t know. Where do I want to go? “My place,” I answer without giving it too much thought.
“Then I’ll take you to your place.” Jake reaches over and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Call Heather. She can keep you company.”
I can’t hide my rising panic. “Why, where will you be?”
“I have a few things to sort out.”
I shrink in my seat. “Dad.”
He looks out the corner of his eye to me, his Adam’s apple protruding on a hard swallow. He suddenly looks nervous, and that makes me feel really nervous. “Your dad,” he confirms, shifting in his chair.
“What about the charges?”
“Your father’s seen sense.”
I recoil in my seat, gawking at him. My father’s seen sense? That’s the most ridiculous claim I’ve ever heard. “He’s had the charges dropped?”
“That’s right.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?”
“I told you this would all be sorted out, angel. I meant it.” He looks across the car to me again, his eyes full of reassurance that I’m in no position to appreciate. “Trust me.” He has a lot more faith in my flesh and blood than I do.
What else can I do? I have to trust him. I do trust him. But my father? There’s only a fraction of guilt attacking me when I decide on the spot that I don’t trust him. My own father.
* * *
After Jake takes my bag to my room, he comes back through the lounge and heads toward his own room. I smile to myself a little, thinking it funny that I automatically think of it as his room. I follow him and push through the door, finding him sitting on the end of his bed, pushing bullets into the magazine of his gun.
My mouth drops open, but Jake doesn’t flinch, just continues loading his weapon. He’s going to see my dad and he’s loading his gun? I raise my arm, pointing at his working hands, unable to locate the words I’m looking for.
“Just a precaution,” he tells me, standing and locking the magazine in place before shoving the gun down the back of his jeans. “Don’t panic. I always carry it.”
“Forgive me.” I laugh sardonically. “For a moment there I thought you might be planning on killing my dad.”
Jake doesn’t laugh. Nor does he acknowledge my curt quip. He walks right past me without another look. My body turns as he passes, my eyes following his path. No answer.