Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
But I’m way too out of my body to feel the warmth of his touch.
“What do you want me to do with him,” I hear him ask from far away.
I make my lips move. “Let’s go.”
“No, he goes.” Paolo turns and kicks my dad in the ribs. “This cabin is yours. He’s dead. He has no rights to it.” He kicks him again, then reaches down and hauls him up with his fists in his clothing.
“You’d better stay dead this time, West. Because the bratva will be looking for you for that truck full of electronics you stole. And if I ever see you again?” He says something menacing in Italian. “I’ll fucking skin you alive, you greedy little weasel. You abandoned your kids for a couple hundred grand?” He cocks his fist back and delivers another vicious blow, then shoves him in the direction of his girlfriend.
“Get him out of here,” he tells the girlfriend. “And don’t fucking come back.”
Out-of-body Caitlin watches them stumble out. I’m so fucking numb. So removed. Vaguely, it occurs to me that I need to get back. And Paolo’s here.
He knows how to do it.
He turns to me, his face etched with concern. I pick up his meaty hand and put it on my throat, pressing in to squeeze.
Choke me. My silent plea.
He understands. He cups the back of my head and leans his lips down to my temple. “I would, doll, but I think your brother will shoot me.”
Observer Caitlin notes Trevor still gripping Paolo’s pistol. “Put the gun down,” I hear myself say.
I don’t feel the relief I know I should when he starts and sets it down on the coffee table like it’s a snake.
There’s something else. Something I need. Oh yeah.
“I’m hungry,” I force the words across my lips.
Paolo sweeps the kitchen with his gaze, then shakes his head. “Let’s get you out of here.” He scoops me into his arms. “We passed a lodge not too far from here. We can get a meal and stay there until the storm passes.”
I see Trevor’s pale face as Paolo turns with me. How did he get here? Oh yeah, he showed up with Paolo.
How did Paolo get here?
“Do I need to shut the water off, Caitie?” Trevor asks.
The water… I can’t figure out what that means.
“I’ll get it. Be out in a minute,” he tells Paolo.
Paolo carries me to a shiny Range Rover and carefully sits me in the passenger seat. He pulls the seatbelt across my waist and buckles it.
I need to tell him things. Lots of things.
I make my tongue work. “They showed me pictures. The FBI. Pictures of you and him. They told me you killed him.”
Pain flickers on Paolo’s face.
“I didn’t believe them.” There. That’s what I wanted to tell him.
He catches my gaze and holds it. “I will never lie to you, Cait.”
And the strangest thing happens.
I drop back into my body for a moment. Warmth spreads across my chest. I find my way back to the present through love, not pain.
As I start to recede again, I reach for more. “I love you,” I blurt.
It’s not my declaration, but what I see on Paolo’s face that brings me back this time. Tears pop into his eyes—I swear to God. He blinks rapidly and lunges in for me. Captures my head in both his hands and holds me captive for a searing kiss.
A claiming kiss. His lips move brutally across mine, his tongue lashes my mouth. He pours all his powerful presence, his life force, his protection into me.
The warmth spreads more. Into my belly. Down my arms. Pooling in my pelvis.
When he pulls away, I’m back. I’m sitting on the car seat, freezing my ass off while my huge, handsome lover stands over me.
“They want me to turn informant.” I have to get the worst of it out. Make sure he knows and understands I would never betray him. “They say I have forty-eight hours to decide or they’ll bring charges against me.”
He shakes his head. “They’re bluffing, doll. But if they do, we’ll handle it. We have Lucy in our court and she’s the very best defense attorney there is. I’m not going to let you go to jail again. Not ever. Lo prometo.”
I don’t understand Italian, but he’d translated the phrase for me before. It was his promise, his solemn vow.
He strokes his thumb down my cheek. “Is that why you ran?” His expression is so tender—no anger or hardness at all.
I’m surprised by a tear falling. No pain. No punishment. I’m feeling feelings just like that.
“Or was it because of this?” He holds up the pregnancy test.
“Yeah. Both,” I croak.
“Talk to me, bella. Why did you run? You scared of me?”
“I just—” I shiver and he reaches across me to put the key in the ignition and start the vehicle.