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)
A warm hand covers my shoulder, and although my first instinct is to shrug it away, I know the hell I'll bring on myself if I disrespect Kincaid.
"Let me know what else you find," Hemlock says just before ending the call.
"What the fuck is going on?" I growl, my hands ready to get to work.
"It's not Eli," Hemlock says.
"Who's not Eli?"
"They found a body," Hemlock says.
The room rattles with disapproval and hatred for all men like Damien Gaines.
"The kid was about fourteen or fifteen," Hemlock continues. "Shallow grave on one of the properties just outside of Pittsburg. It was... fresh. Days old. We have no other identifying information, no clue who this kid is or who his parents are. Deacon will let me know more when they know more."
"That sick fuck," one of the New Mexico guys mutters.
A rumble of agreement rolls through the room, and there are so many people in here, it seems to echo off the walls.
"We're doing all that we can," Kincaid says.
I hear what he doesn't say, but I dip my head in understanding anyway.
We all work hard. We've all dedicated our lives to helping and saving others. We don't sandbag when it's time to work, but there's a part of me that even though these guys give a hundred percent when working, I feel like they're going to try to go above that for my son. I appreciate every one of them.
"Thank you," I say, looking around the room and meeting the eyes of every man in there.
What he doesn't say is that sometimes we don't make it in time. I haven't worked for Cerberus long, and I haven't done the type of missions they do. Their work is incredibly different from what this branch in Tennessee was created to accomplish. I know they have jobs where they don't have the right intel, when the one they're looking for is either never found or they get there too late.
I know all this is possible where Eli is concerned, but there isn't an ounce of me that thinks I'll be forced to go on in life without ever meeting my son.
I have full faith and confidence in their abilities, and I know it's only a matter of time before I get to bring that little boy home.
Chapter 24
Aspen
My head one hundred percent believed him when he said I was safe here, but that didn't stop my entire body from trembling when he left. The shaking continued all the way to the bathroom and through another shower because I never fully got all the soap out of my hair from the interrupted one back in Massachusetts. I can't count how many times I had to squeeze my eyes closed and remind myself that he was there to protect me, but shutting them meant I couldn't watch the door which was visible through the glass wall of the shower.
I was in yet another position where I couldn't protect myself, and I hated the vulnerability of it.
I stand in the middle of his bedroom, a soft, thick towel wrapped around me, wondering what I should do next. I don't feel as if I have the right to open his drawers or closet in search of more clothes, but I can't exist in this room in just a towel either.
I pull in a deep breath, hopeful he'll understand my need to get dressed as I walk toward his closet.
My heart races even more when I see the back wall and the number of weapons displayed there. Although Damien didn't go out of his way to lock his weapons away, I never saw an area of the house where he had so many in one place. I have to wonder if all the people who live here have a wall of guns in their rooms. Does that make me safer or more in danger?
Instead of hyper-focusing on it, I grab a t-shirt from a hanger and pull it over my head before rummaging through his drawer and pulling out a pair of boxer briefs. Both swallow me up and are much too big, but at least they're a layer of protection against the outside world.
He didn't tell me to stay in the room, but he also didn't tell me I was welcome to roam around the house either. I figure it's best to stay where he left me. I crawl into the bed, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush when I press my nose into his pillow and inhale the scent of him. It's beyond insane how the scent of something can bring back so many memories. Although the cologne or bodywash left behind on his pillow isn't identical to whatever it was that he used before, there's still that innate part of it that is all him, something spicy and special, something I've never found before or after him.