Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
It’s all there, all this worry and horror, and I could ignore it and push it away, I could refuse to let it conquer me and stop myself from taking this further. Or I could give myself to Angelo and let him take away all my pain and all my worry, at least for a few hours, but one thing jolts me out of this sudden insanity.
He’s the father of my child.
I’m kissing my baby’s daddy.
I pull back suddenly. He blinks at me in surprise but he doesn’t move. He’s hovering above me, hand in my hair, eyes staring into mine, his expression hard like he’s half angry and half out of control.
“We can’t,” I whisper. “Please.”
Slowly, he releases me. It’s like a tide pulling back or a hurricane moving past. He recedes to his half of the bed, and I’m left there biting my lower lip to keep from screaming and dragging him back on top of me. I feel cold, empty, broken.
I feel afraid—but the sick part is, I’m less afraid than I was without him.
“Get some sleep,” he says and rolls onto his side. “We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
I want to touch him. I want to tell him that it’s not about him, it’s about this baby—but I can’t. When this case is over, he’s going back to Philly and I’m staying here and we’ll never cross paths again.
I’ll have my child. He’ll have his life.
“Goodnight.” I roll away from him and let exhaustion take me.
Chapter 11
Sara
I wake from a deep, dreamless sleep, and Angelo’s gone.
He’s not in bed. He’s not in the bathroom. His side of the bed is cold and the sheets are pulled up to the bottom of the pillow like he wanted to hide his tracks. There’s no sign that he was here at all.
Except there’s coffee in the living room and a note. Breakfast is in the minifridge. I’ll be back later. A.
I sit on the couch, eat some fruit, have a little yogurt with granola, and stare around the room.
I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time. It’s not opulent, but it’s extremely nice—the sort of hotel room meant to impress guests. Except Angelo couldn’t have expected anyone would come here. That man acts like he’s nothing more than a common street thug and talks about his past like he’s on the edge of poverty, but he stays in places like this and dresses in thousand-dollar suits and expensive shoes and he looks like he’s dripping with cash.
Maybe that’s the old Angelo, the poor kid from a poor family, and this is the new one. A man that worked hard to get somewhere. A man that did things he never imagined he would.
I can be like that. I can do things, hard things. Whatever I need to do to get ahead.
And one of those things includes not kissing him anymore.
“Well, shit,” I whisper to myself. When I’m done eating, I decide to take advantage of this room while I can and head into the bathroom to take a bath.
I sink back into the water. I leave my phone in the other room and try to relax, but my mind keeps drifting back to that kiss last night. I keep seeing the look on his face, the pure desire in his eyes. And while that’s not great, it’s better than obsessing about my apartment. About what kind of life I’m going to have once this is all over, if it’ll ever be all over.
A door opens and closes in the other room. My heart starts racing and I jump out of the tub. I feel stupid, but I dry myself in a hurry, put on one of those big white terrycloth robes, and poke my head out of the bathroom. I’m safe in here, I’m safe in here, but what if I’m not? Whoever could kill five cartel members and get away with it could easily break into a hotel room and finish me off.
“Hello?” I sneak toward the living room, heart racing. “Angelo?”
I find him standing near the TV, looking surprised. His head tilts to the side and his gaze moves from my wet hair to my lips and down to my chest—
I realize the front of my robe’s hanging open. Not enough to let him see something he shouldn’t, but enough to give him a show. I suck in a breath and pull it closed, glaring hard.
“You scared me,” I snap and level my best ice-queen stare at him. “Next time, say something.”
“I wasn’t aware I needed to announce myself in my own room. Besides, I told you I was out and that I’d be back.”
“I didn’t know that meant back soon or—” I cross my arms. “Where were you, anyway?”
“Your apartment.” He gestures at a bag near the front door. “I figured you’d need some stuff.”