Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
But Theo’s words were on repeat in the back of my head.
Did Bolton really stage that robbery?
Was he really capable of something so horrible?
He did bargain with Theo to leave me alone, but that wasn’t as surprising.
I understood Theo wanted to avenge his brother, but I was still surprised he’d taken the deal if it meant he had to rip me apart. Even though his words had been insincere, the bruises he’d left on my heart had turned into permanent scars. I could accept he didn’t mean what he said, but my mind couldn’t delete the trauma as if it had never happened.
I still thought about Theo a lot. I wondered what had happened to his wife. Did someone kill her as an act of revenge against him? Was it a horrible car accident? Was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time?
I would never find out.
When Bolton packed a duffel bag, I knew it was time for him to leave for an assignment. It’d been weeks since he’d been to work. He’d been handing the contracts to other guys, but now that our marriage had stabilized, he was ready to return to normal life.
I felt uneasy about him leaving. I didn’t want to be in the house alone, not after what had happened, even though we had an alarm and I knew where the guns were hidden. But I also had a fear of what Bolton would do while he was away. That he would continue to bed other women as if we still had an open arrangement.
He packed his bag with his essentials and another with his weapons, bringing them to the door that led to the garage where his Porsche was parked. He turned to me and looked me over. “You’re sure you don’t want to come?”
I shook my head. “I have work, and I think it’s better if I stay here.” It was easier for me to pretend he sold insurance or worked for a firm when I stayed home with my head buried in the sand.
He gave a slight nod. “I’ll call and text.”
He’d never done that before. “Be safe.”
“I will.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me, squeezed me with his big arms and brushed his lips across my forehead. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
He grabbed his bags and walked out.
It was the first time I’d been home alone in weeks.
The alarm was set. The camera system was on. I had a loaded pistol within reach.
But I still couldn’t sleep.
I headed downstairs and stepped into the kitchen, looking through the fridge and the cabinets, even though I wasn’t hungry. We had a large collection of wine, so I grabbed a bottle from Barsetti Vineyards and uncorked it before I poured a glass. I looked out the front window while I drank it, and then my phone vibrated on the island.
I’m where I’m supposed to be. Going to bed now.
I read his message a couple times. He never used to update me on his whereabouts. Said he didn’t want anyone to see his phone and know that he had a wife waiting for him. Goodnight.
You’re still awake.
Hard to sleep without you.
I’ll probably be home late tomorrow night if all goes well.
Okay. He gave me the assurance I wanted, even though it could all be lies, but it made me feel better anyway.
I drank my wine again and noticed a light from a screen on the corner of the counter.
It was his tablet, the cover open just enough for the screen to light up when a message went through.
I assumed it was my message that had made it light up.
But it lit up again…and again.
I should ignore it because I never snooped in his stuff. He didn’t put a password on his phone, so I assumed if he was that transparent, he had nothing to hide. But after everything we’d been through, I had a nagging feeling in my stomach.
Who was he texting at three in the morning?
It was just his guys, probably. Just about work, probably.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
If I just look at the messages, it’ll put my mind at ease and I can go to bed.
I set down my wine and walked over to the counter. He must have meant to take it with him and set it on the counter but forgot to stuff it into his bag. I removed the cover and watched the screen turn bright with a conversation he was having.
It was with someone named Carson.
Relief filled my heart when I realized it was a man.
But when I glanced at the messages, something didn’t add up.
I told you I can’t.
Carson responded right away. You were doing it before, so what does it matter?
Because it’s different now.
Different how?
I kept reading the messages, getting the impression this wasn’t a conversation between two men.