Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I step into the en suite, the mountain cabin theme flowing into this room as well with the black bear-shaped pump soap dispenser and the cabinets made out of dark cedar.
My reflection honestly looks better than I feel. My heart refuses to calm down as I look out the door and watch Jericho follow the doctor's direction as he rolls Owen into him so the man can access the wound.
Bile rushes up my throat and I barely make it to the toilet in time before getting sick. The sting of tears follows, and I don't have the energy to fight them any longer. I allow the weight of my sorrow and confusion to carry me to the floor, and in a final bid to save face, I kick my foot out and close the bathroom door. The last thing I want is to feed into whatever stereotype those men might consider with a woman not being able to keep her shit together in the face of adversity.
I sob harder than I did the other night, knowing the only man who was capable of making my fears fade away might never open his eyes again. I'm more emotional now after only a few weeks of infrequent contact with the man than I was after ten solid years of marriage to Billy.
After several long minutes of crying, leaving me completely drained and clinging to a massive headache, I pull a piece of tissue from the roll and blow my nose, standing to toss it in the trash when I notice something that makes my breath hitch in my throat.
There, in the bottom of the otherwise empty trash can, sits the tiny elephant, dog bone, and whale soap stones he purchased at the gem mining place.
Wariness begins to settle inside of me.
Why would they be in the trash?
Was he lying about his nephew?
Does he even have a nephew?
I really didn't know anything about him.
Was he following me?
I glare at the door, wondering just how much danger I might be in.
Were the soap stones a cover because he was following me and I caught him in the same place? Is that why he turned me down when I asked him to lunch?
Why is he following me?
Billy?
Is that who sent him? Was Billy higher up the drug food chain than I was led to believe?
My hands tremble as I reach for a wash rag, running it under the water before swiping at the blood staining my chin. I have to get out of here, but I also know I look a little psycho coated in blood.
I eye the shower when the blood on my hands doesn't immediately wash away as I hold my hands under the water, but I toss that idea out completely. I'm vulnerable enough as it is. I'll be damned if I get naked with Jericho on the other side of the door.
Owen knows where I live. He knew my address when I didn't give it to him, claiming to have followed me home. Even though I knew that wasn't true the moment he said it, he distracted me before I could argue with him.
Did he sleep with me out of spite, in an effort to get back at Billy, or is he working with Billy?
Does this have anything to do with Billy at all?
The bank seized our accounts, but it's not like they discovered a ton of money hidden from me. Billy was low level at best. These guys have money. This huge cabin is proof of that.
Are they the next step up on the criminal food chain that Billy was a part of? Are they after me and seeking some sort of justice because he got caught? Did he rat someone out who has ties to very dangerous criminals?
Due to the way the cabin was built, doing its best to utilize every inch of free space, there's no window in here, making it impossible to escape. Not that I'd ever be brave enough to climb out of a second-story window.
I decide to do my best at playing calm and collected until I can get away from Jericho. My first thought is to run to Tommy. He's the only person I know around here, but I know in my soul I can't trust that man. Maybe Billy was right all the times he told me his older brother was trouble.
I'm still trembling when I pull open the bathroom door, but I argue with myself that's to be expected with the night I've had.
When I step back into the room, the doctor is gone, and in his place, I see the back of another man's head, his silver hair glossy as he looks down at Owen's form.
"Hemlock is tough," the man says, the sound of his voice familiar in a weird sort of way that makes my heart rate ramp up even more. "He'll pull through."