Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
He wraps his coat around my shoulders and I slip my arms into the satin-lined sleeves, pulling the front tight around me. This is when I realize why he just did this.
The camera is now hidden.
“Relax, now,” he says. “Have a hot drink. It will warm you up.”
He hands me a teacup from the center bar console. I wrap my hands around the dainty china and bring it to my lips as Olsen messes with the temperature gauge for the AC and turns it down.
He did that on purpose too. The cold. So he would have an excuse to give me his jacket.
Now they can hear us, but not see.
When I look over at Olsen, he’s pointing to the inside pocket of his coat. I pat it with my hand, then pull out a small notebook, about the size of a wallet.
I open it and find words.
Pages and pages of words.
And the moment I read the first line, I know what this is.
My story.
Because it says: You can get lost in the right kiss. The right kiss can change a life.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – LOCKE
RIGHT NOW
“Pull over.”
Mercer navigates a turn around a hill before he looks over at me. “What?”
“I said pull over.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Locke—”
“Pull. Over.” I glare at him.
He narrows his eyes at me. But there is a turnout up ahead. Some scenic view thing. It’s almost too good of a coincidence, but I’m thankful for it. Because Mercer complies and eases the Jeep into the small side road and stops next to a guard rail.
He pulls the parking brake and looks at me. “What’s going on?”
“I just need a minute to think.”
“To think about what?” His tone is… not angry. Inconvenienced.
I don’t answer him because I’m not actually sure. My mind is kind of jumbled at the moment. It’s spinning with memories of Nova.
Suddenly his hand is on my arm and when I look up, his expression is soft. “We should go home.”
I don’t answer him, but my head shakes out a no.
“Locke.”
“Just—” I shake his hand off my arm and put up my own hand, asking for distance. “Just give me a minute.” I get out of the Jeep and he quickly follows me.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t know where I’m going. That’s always been my problem. I’m stuck.
And I realize, maybe for the first time ever, that I want out.
I look him in the eyes and allow myself to try this revelation on for size. A life without Mercer.
I don’t want a life without Mercer. I don’t. I love him.
Maybe Olsen is right, and it’s sick. But it doesn’t matter.
I don’t want out of Mercer, I want out of the life we’ve built.
“It’s not enough.”
“What’s not enough?” He looks genuinely confused.
And this kind of pisses me off. “What we have, Mercer. It’s not enough.”
He shrugs one shoulder, nonchalant. “So leave.”
I’ve tried. He knows I’ve tried. We’ve had this conversation before. He knows I can’t do it. I don’t even know why I can’t do it.
But I can’t stay either. And I think he realizes this.
Maybe, if we hadn’t just left Nova, he would let me go. He would give me whatever it is I need to leave. But we did just leave Nova. And he’s acutely aware that if I walk away here, I will go back to her.
And I’m not sure he can handle that.
It’s too much like a prize.
Not for me, but for Nova.
Because she’s the one he’s really playing this game with.
So he pivots. He walks over to me. Puts that hand back on my arm. Leans in to me.
Kisses me.
And this fucking kiss. This fucking man and his fucking kiss.
We all kiss like him now. We want his kiss so bad, we emulate him.
So I kiss him back.
And inside this kiss, I drift.
It’s not the only way I emulate him. I used Olsen and Nova the same way Mercer uses me.
No, the little voice in my head says. No, you don’t. Because you love them, Michael. And Mercer would toss you aside without hesitation.
I know this.
And it confuses me.
How did it all happen?
How did we get here?
Seven years ago I walked into that little prison room where Olsen was sitting and we struck a deal. He wanted to kill the woman who set him up.
I pushed him on this. I wanted details. No one, in all the years I’d been recruiting prisoners, has ever asked for revenge.
This idea in Travis Olsen’s mind was eating him alive.
“She never loved me.”
The moment those words came out of his mouth, I knew.
“She used me. And I was infatuated with her. Addicted.”
I knew the feeling.
“She has no scruples. No morals. No ethical code. But I cannot get enough of her.”
Same, same, dude.
“And I know she’s caught now, but she left me there to get busted. She killed three people, dude.” He didn’t even know my name when we had this conversation. I was still just ‘dude.’ “And she let me take the fall. I had to beg people to believe me.”