Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Then he curled his body around hers as if he’d never held anything more precious in his life. And she cried—for how much he’d suffered, for how renewed she felt in his arms, for how bumpy their road ahead would probably be.
“You okay?” he murmured, skimming her cheek with his knuckles.
“I will be. It’s a lot. I’m used to being there for everyone else and only letting go of my emotions when I’m alone. But when I’m with you, I feel so safe and adored. And all my feelings just spill out.”
His dark eyes swam with unshed tears. “I’ve never loved anyone in my life until you.”
“No other woman?”
“No one, period. I’ve never said those three words to anyone but you.”
“Except your parents.”
Pierce stiffened. “My mother died when I was a baby.”
They had that in common, and her heart went out to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I know how that feels, though. Weren’t you close to your dad?”
He hesitated a long time, choosing instead to kiss her face, brush his lips over hers, caress the hair from her forehead. Anything except answer her question.
“Pierce?”
He sighed and shifted. She could still feel him inside her, slowly softening, but he pressed in as if he didn’t want to leave. “Pierce Senior died when I was fifteen. Since my father was a horrible human being, I’m glad he’s gone. I hated him.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s why I killed him.”
The shock of his words had barely registered when his phone chimed with a siren-like peal.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then eased free from her. He was gentle about that…not so gentle when he kicked the half-open bedroom door on his way down the stairs to retrieve the device.
Her brain was still replaying his words. Every part of her turned to ice.
Had he really just confessed to killing his father as a teenager out of hate?
Yes.
Why? She’d known he killed for a living, but he ended bad guys to make the world a better place, right? He didn’t shoot anyone for sport.
But did that really make it okay? According to the way she’d been raised, no.
She’d conveniently swept his profession under the rug because she’d convinced herself she knew his heart. Even now, she was desperate to believe he had a compelling reason for taking his father’s life…
Or had Cutter warned her away from One-Mile precisely because he was the sort of man who didn’t need one?
Pierce had defied—no, laughed in the face of—multiple commandments. He had taken the Lord’s name in vain and committed murder. Since he believed she belonged to Cutter, he didn’t mind committing “adultery,” either. And he definitely hadn’t honored his father.
Still, she hated to think that Pierce was a bad man.
Because her heart would never let her fall for someone unworthy? Or because her devotion had made her blind to his faults?
Brea darted to her feet, grabbed the bath towel they’d shared, then ran down the stairs to her clothes, only to find Pierce standing beside the dining room table stark naked with the phone pressed to his ear.
“I’m in.” He paused. “Yes, I’m sure. When and where?” He listened and nodded. “On my way.”
He ended the call, then turned to her with regret, as if he had something unpleasant to say. As if he hadn’t terrified and confused the devil out of her moments ago. “I have to leave.”
“Where?” But deep down, she knew. She’d been through this with Cutter.
He palmed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. It’s work.”
A completely new fear ripped through her—that he’d come back bent and broken again. Or worse, in a pine box. “Already? You just got medically cleared today.”
Pierce sighed grimly. “Emilo Montilla appeared in the US, not far from where his wife and her sister are staying in a safe house. We have to stop him.” He turned and headed for the stairs, then paused.
When he cupped her face, she flinched.
He swore. “I dropped a lot on you about me and my dad. I swear there’s an explanation. I’ll tell you the whole ugly story when I get back. You’ll understand.”
But what kind of explanation would make what he’d done all right?
“I promise, Brea. For now…I love you. Please be here when I get home.” He brushed a kiss over her frozen lips. “And say you’ll move in with me.”