Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“I feel like my heart’s broken in two,” I admit, reaching out and sipping my tea. “I love him, Holden. Okay? I’ll say it. I love him deeply. And yeah, I yelled at him, I gave him the cold shoulder. That doesn’t change that I love him.”
“What happened?” he asks.
I hesitate a moment. “Secrets,” is all I say, and he waits for more before nodding in understanding.
“So you love him . . . But?”
“But I hate the fact that ever since he came back into my life, everything’s turned to absolute chaos,” I add. “He came back and with it . . . it brought everything back. I’m not willing to go backward, Holden.”
“Why?” he asks, leaning forward.
The sleeplessness from last night weighs on me.
“Hey.” His voice is comforting. “Let me make you another cup of tea, and maybe you can just rest today.”
“I don’t need a day off.” I start to protest as a yawn interrupts. Dammit.
“You don’t need to leave. There’s a sofa right there.” He gestures.
I glance at the sofa, knowing not even a week ago, Gabriel and I shared it and a piece of my heart slipped back into place.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Holden asks, and I realize my expression is far too honest. “You can tell me.”
“I can’t, though,” I confess. “Years ago, I did something awful. And Gabriel covered for me. I owe him my life, and I love him, but I just—”
“He covered for you?” Holden asks, a mar in his forehead.
I can only nod, confessing, “He did everything for me, but he left me. His coming back is like hitting play on a pause button for a movie I never wanted to know the ending of.” Holden listens, nodding along, and as the tears stream down my face, I hold everything I can in and I don’t say another word. I’ve already said too much.
“Let me get you another tea,” Holden offers, not judging and not pushing further.
“Thank you.” I pluck the tissues out, and the moment the door shuts, I admit to myself what I’ve been denying for three days straight. I’m terrified.
If someone knows, they either want Gabriel dead . . . or they want me dead.
GABRIEL
Present
“And this is all you have?” I ask him to make sure.
“Yeah,” the shop owner says, pocketing the envelope I just passed him. There’s five thousand dollars inside, and I seriously doubt he’s going to be reporting that to the IRS. “Look.” The owner finally looks at me. His white button-down shirt is ironed, and he’s paired it with blue jeans. No tie, not that I would expect him to be wearing one. “I don’t have the most up to date system. The memory card’s set up to record on a loop, like a DVR. If I don’t pull the card, it auto deletes anything more than five days old. The dude I paid to install this thing called it a security spam folder.” He shrugs. “Sorry I can’t do more.” Like the other shop owners on this corner, the man is older and the place is a bit rundown. Not much has been updated on this strip.
It’s more than likely another dead end. Still, I pocket the card. It’s something. And anything is better than nothing. “I understand.” We’ve gone through hours of footage from three dozen security cameras, tracking the hooded man until we reach a dead end. This camera may have a view, it may not, but it’s worth a look. And to the man behind the counter, that’s worth five grand.
“Have a good day,” he tells me, and I respond with a curt smile and “You too.”
I leave the shop, a compact shoe store that’s half a block down from Kiersten’s apartment, and head down the street. This was the third place I’ve been to today, helping Roland and my team gather as much information as we can on who’s been leaving these threats.
It’s been three fucking days. Three days too many of not putting an end to this goddamn nightmare. Three days of Kiersten barely speaking to me because I kept it from her. I know I fucked up, but I’m going to fix it. Then, I’m going to fix things between Kiersten and myself.
At the corner, I’m met by my driver for today, another man from Joshua’s security firm. Joshua’s watching footage and current surveillance. Together, we walk to my vehicle for today, a black detailed SUV that’s far more secure than the soccer-mom look it's sporting. “Were you able to find what you need, sir?”
“Doubtful,” I tell him, pulling out the memory card and adding it to the pile.
When we get into the SUV, he plugs it into the built-in computer and with a few keystrokes sends it on its way to the rest of the security team. “Don’t worry, sir. If there’s anything there, they’ll find it.”