Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Then he swallows, shaking his head slowly. “Oh, Bonnie.”
“What is it?” I ask nervously. “What’s happened?”
“It’s your dad. Somebody broke into his apartment. He’s missing.”
I stumble and fall against the wall.
It’s weird. Even as it happens, I’m thinking, Come on, don’t be melodramatic.
It doesn’t help. The news has violently crashed into me.
“What? Why?”
“We’re not sure. It might have something to do with his gambling debts.”
“What debts?” I ask.
“We’re still looking into that, but you said it. He’s got an issue with gambling. He used to enjoy it too, back in the day…”
He trails off, and we share a sour look. Back in the day refers to the dark period Blake won’t talk about, the secret he’s keeping.
“But we’ll need your help. I didn’t want to involve you.”
“I want to be involved,” I snap, marching right up to Blake, staring up into his fierce expression. “I want to help any way I can.”
“We’ll need a list of where he goes, where he gambles, and any friends or associates.”
“Have you contacted the police?” I ask.
Blake nods, surprising me. “He’s been registered as a missing person.”
“I thought you were going to tell me not to trust the police.”
He sighs darkly. “Life isn’t as simple as you want to make it, Bonnie. It’s not a question of wrong and right and truth and lies.”
“What’s that, huh? Bad poetry?”
Suddenly, he loops his arms around me and squeezes me so I’m crushed close to him. I try to fight the fiery collision at first, but then his lips are on mine. Fighting isn’t even an option. I take solace in his arms, kissing him, so I don’t have to think about Dad. I don’t have to think about the bad things that could be happening.
“We have to get to work,” Blake says fiercely, pausing the kiss.
He’s right, but I push my lips against his anyway.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Blake
“My men are scouring the city,” I tell Bonnie, leaning against the doorframe as she sits at the kitchen table.
The overhead lights are on, and the garden is dark, letting me study her in the window’s reflection. She crosses her arms, anxiety clear in every breath. She tightens the fold of her arms.
Even now, the beast in me awakens. With each movement, she shifts her curvy body, the shape of her clear in the loose-fitting T-shirt, the fabric resting against her in all the right places. I walk over and gently lay my hand on her shoulder, reminding myself to be civilized. “You should eat something.”
“Maybe I’ll starve myself until you tell me the truth,” she says. “Maybe that will make you more honest.”
“I can’t share private stuff about your dad,” I say.
She leaps to her feet, the chair whining on the floor. Spinning, she glares up at me.
“My dad might be dead, Blake. Or maybe he’s being tortured. Who knows? And you’re worried about what? About telling the truth?”
I step forward, taking her shoulders, but then she pushes my hand away and strides over to the window.
“I don’t think you’re ready for this news, not now, not when Cameron’s fate is uncertain.”
“How many excuses are there?” she hisses. “The truth is the truth. Whatever happened, it happened. It’s not fair for you to keep it from me. It’s not fair for me not to know who you are. Or who dad is. Or who Mom was.”
I drop into a chair at the table, picking at the wood and staring at her.
“I could’ve run today,” she says, facing me slowly. “We both know I could have. Your man wouldn’t have stopped me. I saw the way he was looking at me this morning. Or not looking at me. He was scared. I doubt he would’ve grabbed me if I’d run. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” I say, impressed.
“But I chose to stay,” she says, approaching me with careful steps as if she’s worried about setting off a landmine. She already has an explosion of certainty inside of me.
“I stayed for Archie.” She kneels, grabbing my hands, squeezing them tightly as she gazes up at me with tears in her eyes. “I stayed for you because something’s happening between us. I know it is, but I can’t let myself care if you won’t… won’t… tell the truth.”
She breaks down. The stress becomes too much for her as she pushes her face against my legs and weeps. Agony rips right down my middle—agony and defeat. I’m never supposed to let my woman crumble like this. I stroke her shoulders gently.
“It’s okay, Bonnie.”
“I want to know what’s going on.”
“Come here.”
Leaning down, I wrap my arms around her, lift her, and sit her on my lap. She pushes her face against my chest, crying as I smooth my hands through her hair, hoping to comfort her.
“Are you sure you want to hear this?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m sure.”