Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“And risk you not calling? Not a chance. Vanessa will be fine.”
“You wound me, dear brother. We can at least get the party started before you ditch me.” She reaches over my shoulder, handing me a mini bottle of tequila. “One for you.” Then she holds one out to Vince and snatches it back. “None for you. You’re driving. You can catch up later. Cheers.”
We twist off the caps and clink the tiny bottles together. “You sure you don’t want to stick with us? I have a feeling you and I could be great friends.” I hide my snicker as we slug them back.
“I wish. I have a feeling you’re going to have much more fun without me.”
Chapter twenty
Tate
The drive back to New York is hell. My hands are sore from hours of gripping the steering wheel. I’m twenty minutes outside town when Rochel calls, bringing me up to speed. “Tell me everything you know.”
“They snagged him an hour outside of Vermont. Lucky for us, he never made it across the state line. A trooper transported him back here. They got there about fifteen minutes ago and currently have him in holding.”
“He talking?”
“Not a peep. Did you prepare Mindy for this?”
“She’s not with me.”
“What do you mean she’s not with you? You left her at the cabin?” he asks, surprised.
Tension bleeds into my muscles, and my jaw turns to stone. She just couldn’t trust me or listen to me for a goddamn second. If he’d made it to the cabin and caught me off guard—which I constantly seem to be lately with her all up in my head—he could have gotten to her. After everything, she still thinks this is a fucking game. Her childish behavior almost cost her her life.
But that’s not why I’m drowning in anger.
I’ve spent the entire ride replaying our fight.
The way she looked at me was a stab to the gut. She saw a future—something I can’t give her. I’m not made for a wife. For kids. I’m not guaranteed tomorrow.
It’s why I made my intentions clear from the beginning. She was a job. It’s the lie I had to tell myself. I wanted her so badly, but the thought of not having her threatened to bleed me dry. Why did she have to cross the line? Spew those three words? I love her, too. Fuck, I can’t breathe without her. But what I want and what is right are two very different things.
“I’m not your happily ever after, Minds.”
“No, you’re just a coward.”
Her words stung. But they were true.
She deserves better than half a life. Half promises. I accepted who I was a long time ago. A murderer with no future. I risk my life daily because this world wouldn’t miss me if I vanished from it. She doesn’t fucking understand that. But neither does my heart. Or my dick. I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue. Having her in my bed forever is a pipe dream. Soaking in her beauty. Her laughter. Fuck, her witty charm. She’s become an addiction for me.
But this is how it has to be.
“I had one of the local officers escort her back to New York. With Sheldon in custody, there wasn’t a need for me to keep her on lockdown.”
“Sure that was a good idea?”
“Pretty sure she’s under my watch, so yeah. I’ll be there shortly.” The rest of the drive is a blur. When I pull into the station, I throw my truck in park and storm inside. I spot Detective Rochel first. “Where is that motherfucker?” I bark out. “You see him yet?”
“I’ve been reading up on his file. Headed in now.”
“I’m going in with you.”
“Tate, you forget your place here. You may have the skills to serve and protect, but you do not have a badge and are not the law.” My fingers clench into a tight fist, and I have to force myself not to break his nose. “You know I’m right. This isn’t personal—”
“It is to me.”
“I’ve noticed. If you care for Miss Parks, let us do this the right way. Go by the book. If we don’t and fuck it up, he’s free, and we’re back at square one.” Fuck the book. Put me in that room for five minutes, and I’ll get all the answers we need.
“Tate. I don’t like that look. If you can’t behave—”
“I fucking heard you. I’m still sitting in.”
Rochel shakes his head. “Fine. Just behave. You go off course, you can blame yourself when he walks.”
I follow him down the hall, and he opens the door to Sheldon Mitchell sitting behind a steel desk, his hands cuffed to the table.
“Mr. Mitchell.”
“Where’s my call?”
“You’ll get your call soon. Would you like to tell me why you were heading up north?”
“None of your business.”
Rochel pulls out images of a vehicle. “It becomes our business when you’re pulled over for driving a stolen vehicle.”