Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
“In the meantime, someone left an envelope for Emma at my door. It has to be Brody.”
“Brody’s in bed,” he says. “I told you. He’s all but sucking his damn thumb. He didn’t leave that envelope. I had his phone tapped from the minute he left the castle. The window that he could have called someone else to leave something for Emma is almost zero.”
“No one else would know Emma to leave her something.”
“But they know her family. How many people work here at the property?”
“Twenty in various shifts.” I eye the stairs and decide to stay put in case Emma is now awake.
“How many have been here long enough to know your father?”
“Most of them. My father bred loyalty.”
“Then there are people who know perhaps more than you do about what went on between her family and yours. But I didn’t ask the obvious. Did she open it?”
“She’s in bed.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“But you want to.”
“Of course I fucking want to.”
“But you’re not going to.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“I can. Put it back on the doorstep. I found it, not you. I’ll be right there.”
My lashes lower, and I draw in a deep breath. “We have enough lies between families,” I say. “I’m not going to lie to Emma.”
“She can’t open that until I confirm it’s safe. It shouldn’t be in your house right now. Is it?”
“I’m in the foyer off my garage. I haven’t taken it upstairs.” There’s a knock on the door.
“That’s me, asshole. Open up.”
I disconnect and open the door to find Savage standing there, still in the jeans and Walker T-shirt I remember him wearing last night, his jaw heavily stubbled, his eyes bloodshot. “Asshole?” I challenge.
“I stayed up all night trying to keep you safe, and you just risked your life,” he snaps, “so, yes, asshole.” He reaches in the bag at his hip and pulls out a plastic bag he holds open. “Stick it in there. It needs to be tested for toxins and prints.”
“It doesn’t have toxins.”
“And your brother wasn’t murdered?”
I curse and drop the envelope inside the bag. “Don’t open it,” I order.
He gives me a belligerent look. “I have to know if it’s a threat. I have a job to do and that’s to keep you alive.”
“Then clear the damn toxins and come back here before you open it.”
He arches an arrogant brow. “You sure about that?”
“I have nothing to hide,” I say. “I’ve been painfully honest with Emma.”
“Has she been honest with you?” he challenges.
“You know her now. Do you really think that’s who or what this is?”
“She seems like she’s a cool chick, on the up and up and all that shit, but my job isn’t to trust her. It’s to protect you.”
My jaw clenches. “It’s to protect her above me,” I insist. “Consider that a financial directive.”
His eyes narrow on me. “This won’t take long. I’ll be back.” His lips thin. “We all need to know what kind of love note this is. Wash your damn hands. Use soap.” He starts to turn and then pauses. “You have an hour to come to your senses and let me read the message first.”
“I’m not keeping this from Emma.”
“One hour,” he repeats, and with that, he walks away.
Bastard.
He really is a damn bastard, but I also have a strong sense that he’s good at his job. I shut the door and press my hands to it, lowering my head. I want to listen to him. I don’t want Emma upset any more than she already is. My brother has to be behind that envelope, somehow, someway. After what he did last night, I don’t even want to know what he put in that envelope. I scrub my jaw and push off the door. I don’t want Emma to run. I don’t want her alone in San Francisco either. I’ve hired an army of protection that will be here today. I need to think. I need to wash my damn hands.
I head up the stairs and walk into the kitchen to find Emma standing on the opposite side of the island, her hair sexy and wild, mascara smudged under her eyes. All the bad between our families fades at that moment and how can it not? What I feel seeing her here, in this castle, in my home, is inexplicably right. Right in a way I didn’t think I’d ever feel with a woman. I need to protect her. I need to consider Savage’s advice.
And then, Emma asks, “What aren’t you going to keep from me, Jax?”
Chapter fifty-five
Emma
Jax doesn’t answer my question. He doesn’t tell me what Savage wanted him to cover up, to hide from me. It’s not the response I expect from him.
He stands there, just inside the kitchen, more the stone of the castle than the man who owns the manor. He’s unreadable, his jaw set hard, the air between us and around him crackling with tension. His fingers flex and then curl into his palms, a man of control who seems to be battling to maintain it. He doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on. He told Savage he had to tell me, but it seems that he said one thing to Savage and when he walked up the stairs, he intended to do another. Considering how upfront he’s been about his intentions, I’m not sure what to do with that information. What pulls him back now and not previously?