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 shouldn't want him to reach for me and tell me that everything is going to be okay.
I crawl back, putting some distance between the two of us when he stands, not missing the way his jaw ticks in irritation, but he doesn't say a word as he walks toward the door.
"Please let me go," I beg when he reaches for the doorknob. "I won't tell anyone."
Who would I tell? I'd be on the first bus out of Tennessee and probably spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder in fear.
He doesn't offer me a response, probably because he doesn't think I deserve one, before he walks out of the room, the echo of the lock sliding back into place the only thing he leaves behind.
Because I'm more than a little certain, despite this current situation, he took a part of my heart with him.
I stand from the bed, trying to make myself feel a little less vulnerable, and I start pacing again.
Jericho and the other man took my phone and my smartwatch, leaving me with no chance of calling for help. It has also left me disoriented because, although I'm exhausted, I still have no idea how long I've been down here. They come in every so often and usher me to a small bathroom that's here in the basement, but that room is useless as well. It's as if they made accommodations in this house with the anticipation of holding people down here hostage.
Begging them to let me go has been just as fruitless as asking Owe-Hemlock was. Instead of tapping on the wall like I have been for what feels like hours, I walk the short length of the room before turning back around and walking the other way. I did this exact thing as we waited for the doctor to show up, only then, I was worried about his life.
Now, I'm worried about mine.
Chapter 25
Hemlock
The way she flinched away from me makes my blood boil.
How could she ever think I'd lay a hand on her?
Then again, I did just leave her locked in a room with no fucking answers. She has to understand that I’m not the one who put her in the fucking room to begin with.
I press my head to the door, needing the coolness to spread all over my body. I feel like I'm on fire, like an inferno is growing inside of me and the fallout from the explosion is going to be catastrophic.
I can't tell what's fucking me up more. Is it the pain meds in my system, the shit they gave me for sedation? Is it the pain of them wearing off? Is it her? The idea that Ace may argue against letting her go?
Why keep her here in the first fucking place? It's not like she's going to run to the police, and, if she does, our operation is sanctioned by fucking ICE. Surely, Ace is experienced enough to keep the locals off our asses without ruining what we're doing here, but then again, my faith in him is running low today.
"We didn't hurt her," Ace says.
I spin, nearly losing my fucking balance, which makes me feel even weaker. I snarl at the man, but instead of fear entering his eyes as it does on most men I face, his lips simply form a flat line for a brief second before he pulls in a breath. It's very reminiscent of the way the principal used to respond to me when I was in elementary school and got caught doing something bad. He wanted to help, but he was also incredibly frustrated when I turned right back around and got into more trouble after we had a long discussion about my behavior.
"I told you she was going to be an issue."
The only thing that keeps me from beating his ass is the fact that he doesn't point his finger as if he has any authority over me.
"We need to know what she knows."
"She doesn't know anything," I growl.
"Because you've asked her every question we need an answer for?" he argues.
My upper lip curls into a snarl, sweat blooming on my forehead. I step in closer to the man, trying to decide if he's brave or foolish when he straightens the second we come chest to chest.
"I never would've allowed you to leave New Mexico if I had any inclination that you were going to come here and blow your cover on your very first fucking case, by falling in love with the first woman you had to work with."
"She's not the fucking assignment," I growl, unable to deny any other part of his accusation for some reason.
"She became part of the assignment because you made her a part of it," he argues. "You put her in this position, not anyone else."