Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
My walk ends as my path opens to a library that is typical of a home of this wealth and magnitude. There’s a fireplace crackling for effect only, because it’s not that damn cold. Bookshelves loaded with books frame the mantel, a desk sits in the far right of the room, and two high back chairs frame the fireplace.
But the center of my attention is the man I’d estimate to be my age or slightly older, who is standing in front of the flames, his suit impeccable, his hair a thick, light brown. “Welcome, Tyler,” he greets, motioning me forward. “Please join me.”
Welcome and please.
The bullshit is deep.
I close the space between us in a slow, even pace despite the impatience ticking in my jaw and zipping through my body. “Whiskey?” he asks, lifting his glass toward a bottle on the table that separates two wingback chairs, framing the fireplace.
I join him at the fireboard, and wave off the drink. “I’m going to need a cold shower if you keep roasting me with that fucking fire.”
The man laughs and flips a switch just beside the mantel to turn it off. “It is a little hot. Our housekeeper gets cold and loves the damn heat this thing puts off.” He sets his glass on the table by the bottle and offers me his hand. “Name’s Knox.”
I ignore his hand and lock him in a direct stare. “I’m not big on the façade of a handshake nor am I my father. I have zero interest in the games apparently you and he enjoyed.”
His hand lowers. “Understood and respected. I do believe it was my father that sparred quite readily with Hawk Senior.”
“If I remember the file correctly, and I have a very good memory, your father died two years ago, and you are, in fact, in charge. Which makes you the man playing games.”
“I’m getting your attention,” he replies dryly. “It’s not a game. It’s a matter of survival of the fittest.”
My jaw tics. “You took Bella to get my attention,” I say flatly, but I don’t give him time to answer. “You turned a man who could be an ally into an enemy. I’m questioning how that’s a win for you.”
“Your father—”
“Is not me.”
“How would I know that?”
“Ask,” I bite out. “And the very fact that you didn’t think of that speaks to your character and defines mine with you.”
His eyes glint. “You’re digging around in my business.”
“My father threatened to release a case file that would ruin you and me. He also liked to play the games you’ve proven you play as well. I can’t find the file, and my memory of the trial is vague at best. All I’m trying to do is figure out if the damn file is even real.”
He turns my own question back on me. “Why not ask?”
“Your name is not trustworthy,” I reply instantly.
“Neither is yours, based on your connection to your father.”
“Not a reason to take Bella.”
“I never said I did.”
“Bullshit me and treat me like a fool, and I swear to God, I will walk out of the door, and go straight to the FBI. Is she okay?”
He doesn’t immediately respond, the lines of his face sharp, his jaw clenched, which tells me he’s trying to read me, and if he can’t, he’s a fool. I’m an open book of fucked-up and anger, which mixes together in what he should call poison. “Yes,” he says, no hesitation, “she’s safe. I mean no harm to Bella.”
“Then let her go.”
“She’s in a hotel room, untouched. I’ll give you a key when we’re done.”
“Hotel room?” My tone is an acid whip and I want to throttle him and throw him against the wall. “Why is my future wife in a hotel room? Who’s with her? Because he doesn’t have much longer to live if he touched her and neither do you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Tyler
“Then it’s true,” Knox observes. “You do love her.”
“Who’s with her?” I repeat, and my impatience is not his friend. He’ll find that out soon, perhaps not soon enough
“No one,” he replied. “She’s tied up.”
“You bastard,” I snap, and with the idea of her suffering, ropes on her arms and legs, I’m barely holding my fist by my side instead of planting it in his face. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
“She’s untouched. Nothing, and no one, has harmed her.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. She has been harmed, and if you think I will forget that ever in this lifetime, you’re wrong. You think the fact that I love someone makes me easier to manipulate? My father tried to find something to entertain him, and obviously your family did. This isn’t about entertainment to me. It’s about life to me, and she is my life. I will blow your world up, and mine along with it, to protect her and avenge her, so I suggest you start talking and make this right.”