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)
"The house was in Hartford."
"Connecticut?"
He dips his head, and I swear I'd collapse if I weren't already sitting down.
"He's been two hours away this entire time?" Fresh tears stream down my face.
I imagined him being at some boarding school in Switzerland. I knew I had to make some serious plans to get to him, but all it would've taken was stealing a car and driving two fucking hours?
"There's nothing you could've done," he says before turning around and leaving the room.
I don't see it as him trying to make me feel better, but at the same time, I don't see it as a way for him to tell me that I'm weak either. Damien Gaines is a formidable opponent for anyone wanting to go up against him because he doesn't know when to back down. The man is more than willing to die to defend his pride. When he's faced with having to fight for something he really wants, he pulls no punches.
It's what has kept him on top all this time. People are terrified to cross him because he's willing to die to settle a fucking argument over the best flavor of aged cheese. The psychosis in that keeps people at arm's length.
I flip open the notebook and stare down at the blank pages. Now is not the time to realize just how unobservant I've been in my life, but it slaps me in the face anyway. I've been chauffeured around all my life. I don't have a driver's license and I have never even sat behind the steering wheel of a vehicle. I know this has more to do with keeping me dependent on the men in my life than anything else, but I also know it has left me vulnerable.
While being taken from one place to the other, I never really counted the turns or paid much attention to any of it. I knew that if I were put in danger, the man driving me could die. He knew it as well, so I had absolute confidence in them.
I don't know addresses any more than I know who owned the houses we've vacationed in.
Despite all of this, I write down all that I can think of. I list the place we stayed for our honeymoon, an elegant beachside resort in Cabo. I scrawl out the description of the house we stayed in when we visited the mountains in Colorado, but I can't remember the name of the little town we stayed in.
I toss the notebook and pen to the comforter and squeeze my hands into fists in frustration. I'm fucking useless. I can't even help myself let alone a team of men looking for Eli. I've felt like a failure many times over, but none has hit me as hard as the way I'm feeling right now.
Eli has been moved, and I don't know if that was two weeks ago or if Jericho's team got there an hour late. Either way, I'm the one responsible. Did I get too close to the information in the office that day last week? Did he move him out of precaution? Does he bounce the child all over the place? Was Eli ever at the house they searched?
These are all questions I may never get an answer for, and as much as I want to blame Jericho, I'm the one who made the only decision I thought I had to years ago. I lied to a man I hate to protect the child of a man I'd love until the day I died, and in doing that, I put both of our lives in danger.
The path I carved for my son could only end in tragedy. That's what happens to people like us. We live on top of the world until someone stronger, someone with more power or ambition, knocks us down and uses our mangled bodies to stand a little taller than we did.
It's what Damien did with my father, and it's what someone will do to him. But that doesn't mean he won't hurt Eli before someone steps on his back to take over.
I continue with my list, hoping it'll be somewhat helpful, but knowing it probably won't be.
I dart my eyes back to the window, wondering once again if going back to Damien would be enough to garner enough faith that he'll keep my son alive and well, but I know better. Damien doesn't grant anyone clemency, not even me.
Chapter 15
Jericho
I glare at the side of Hemlock's head, as if the harder I stare, the more likely I'll be able to hear the conversation, which with how low he's talking, would require superhuman abilities. I can't even manage to get my very human emotions under control today.
I'm antsy, pacing more often than I'm sitting but we've gotten nothing.
All leads have gone nowhere. All the addresses we've managed to find haven't panned out to anything other than a low-level trap house in Queens and an abandoned property in Rhode Island.