Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
His forehead wrinkles. “What? Why?”
“Don’t be a dumbass. We can’t take a chance on Joe. It’s to cover our own asses.” I take a long puff from the cigarette. “Just make sure she does it, and take her with you. She needs to get out.”
He narrows his eyes. “Who the fuck are you? She needs to get out?” He laughs. “See, she gets to you, doesn’t she?” I glare at him, and he holds his hands up. “Hey, I get it. You know I like her. She’s crazy, but I like her.”
I cover my face with my hands, groaning. This situation I’ve fallen into is not one I ever intended on being in. Ever.
Caleb holds the door open for me, gesturing for me to get in the car.
“Tell me again why I have to come to the shop with you?”
He flashes me his easy smile. “Apparently you’re no longer a prisoner and Jude thinks you need to get out of the house. I knew you’d win him over in the end.” He winks at me. I dip my face as I feel my cheeks heat. Little does he know.
He slams the door and moves to the driver’s side, sliding behind the steering wheel. “I like the hair, by the way.”
I pinch a piece of hair between my fingers, staring at the mahogany strands. “Thanks.” I hate it. It’s just one more part of Ria that is now lost, replaced by Tor, the damaged girl that Jude has turned me into. Yet I willingly bask in his corruption, like some desperate junkie embracing my own destruction.
We drive to the supermarket in silence. I’ll admit that although it may be mundane, this small slice of freedom feels liberating.
Caleb doesn’t linger, he runs around the shop like it’s a bloody hit and run. I have to double check we’re not robbing the place.
I glance at the trolley full of beer, pizza, hotdogs, and crisps. Seriously? How are these guys still alive? I wrestle the trolley from Caleb and walk off in the opposite direction.
“Ria!” he yells. “What are you doing?”
I glance over my shoulder at him as he huffs after me. “Buying food, obviously, and before you say anything, this is not food.”
He flashes me a disgusted look as I head for the vegetable section. “Are you for real? I’m not eating that shit.”
“You are not five, Caleb,” I sigh.
I move around the shop, ignoring his over dramatic huffing behind me. We pass a small home section, and I spot some picture frames sitting on a shelf. I pick one up and pop it in the trolley.
“Why the hell are we buying picture frames, woman?” he groans. “You’re not fucking redecorating!”
“Maybe I’m going to take a picture of you, as a keepsake.” I smirk.
He frowns, but says nothing. He’s so damn cute sometimes.
“Two hundred dollars!” Caleb shouts, snatching the receipt from me. “This was meant to be a quick trip to the store. Fucking hell.”
“Well, if you didn’t have five hundred litres of beer, then it wouldn’t be two hundred dollars. Now load this shit.” I gesture to the shopping cart and laugh at the expression on his face.
He loads the bags and gets into the car next to me. “Never again,” he says, shaking his head.
He pulls out of the car park and heads home. I roll my eyes. “You would think I had just tried to wax your nut sack, the way you carry on.”
He scowls at me. “You’re sick.” Says the guy who helps kill people.
We’re about halfway home, and the buildings are starting to give way to woodland and farmland when I notice Caleb looking agitated. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror and back to the road repeatedly. I turn to look behind us.
“Don’t look,” he snaps. “They’ve been following us since we left the store.”
I glance in the wing mirror and see a black SUV behind us. I can’t make out the passengers. “What are you going to do?” I ask quietly.
“Not lead them back to the house.” His face is deadly serious, cold, like his brother’s.
“Get the gun outta the glove box,” he says, his eyes trained on the rearview mirror.
“I’m not—”
He cuts me off. “I’m not fucking around, Ria. Get it!”
I open the glove box, my hand trembling as I reach for the black pistol. I don’t want to touch the damn thing.
“Under the seat, there’s a box, get it out,” he instructs. I hesitantly reach under the seat and pull out a black box. I open it and several silver bullets fall onto my lap. Bloody Hell! I catch Caleb pulling his gun from the waist of his jeans. His finger slowly loops through the trigger. “You need to load that one,” he says, his voice too calm.
“I don’t know how to load a gun!” I shriek, panic gripping me.