Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Why is it so hard to hope that he's alive? Maybe it has more to do with the time between us than anything else. I've lived with my choices because I thought it was the only one I had. I've made so many decisions, and put myself on the line so many times to protect Eli and me, and for what? Luke being alive doesn't make sense. He claimed to love me and swore he would go to the ends of the earth for me. He would crawl over broken glass to get to me. There was nothing but death that could stop him. Death is what has kept him away for eight years, so it's impossible for him to be back now.
Finding out he might still be alive after eight years of torture seems impossible. The man I knew and loved would never be capable of that, just like I wouldn't have been capable of following through with the arranged marriage with Damien and the fucking wedding night and every other night I've had to stomach him climbing on top of me if I thought for a second Luke was still alive.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I spring up from the chair and rush toward the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before getting sick.
Tears spring from my eyes just before the first sob racks my body, but I don't have the energy to try and hold them back any longer. Guilt has been the only friend I've had for such a very long time, and it's not that I want him to be dead. I can't count the number of hours I've spent on my knees praying to a god who didn't owe me a single favor to keep him alive. I didn't want to exist in a world where he didn't, but I had no other choice.
The emails are the only reason I can think that he's here. I've been sending them for months, risking the chance that Damien might know I'm sending them, although I do my best to cover my tracks. It's very possible that Damien knows Luke is alive and is setting him up to die, but that doesn't explain why he lied about killing him before. Did Luke get away, and Damien lied to my dad because of the repercussions that would come down on him? I guess that's possible.
Maybe fear kept Luke away. Maybe he really did hate me for what happened that day, and my inability to speak up.
As much as I'd like to believe that the man is back to rescue me, I know it can never happen. I have more than just myself to worry about.
Chapter 9
Jericho
Trying to follow and get intel on someone who would kill you on sight is more than a little difficult. Add in the fact that the man you need information on is more paranoid than your average human, and it becomes nearly impossible.
Damien Gaines was a cocky bastard when I spent those few months working for the Reese organization. He'd strut around like he was invincible.
These days, after taking out the head of a drug and gun empire, he's always looking over his shoulder, unless he's high as a kite from using his own product or drunk after leaving the strip club they operate. Then his goons are looking over their shoulders because they know there will be hell to pay if they got the boss killed while he was incapacitated.
Needless to say, I've spent the last three days trying to get information that would help me get Aspen away from the organization safely, and I have nothing to show for it.
There's no routine to speak of from what I can tell. He leaves the house at different times. He returns at different times. He's a contradiction to Ivan Reese who never left the house, and when he did, it was almost like the president of the United States with the security and planning. Nothing was done on a whim with the old boss.
I wouldn't put it past Damien to have shown my picture around to all his men, so it's not like I can befriend anyone to see if they feel like talking. Disgruntled people tend to get loose-lipped when they're half a bottle of whiskey deep, regardless of how dangerous it would be.
I'm mentally beating myself up for not swiping her off the street earlier this week when I get an email notification.
I haven't emailed her because I don't know if Damien is monitoring the email account. Although I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her for what she did that day eight years ago, I don't want her to be hurt any longer, either.
I nearly trip over the stupid fucking rug in the center of the shitty room, in my effort to get to the laptop I grabbed from a big box retailer the day I got to Boston.