Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“You’ll stay here tonight,” I say as I reach the door. “If you try to leave, I will personally hunt you down and put a bullet in your head. If I can’t find you, then my brother will, and I promise he’ll make it hurt much more than me. I’ll decide what to do with you in the morning.”
She’s quiet as I turn the knob and open the door, but she doesn’t let me walk away and I wish she would.
“Why are leaving me untied?” Her voice is tear-flecked and meek.
I shake my head. “You have nowhere to go. You’d be stupid to try to get away, and I have a feeling you’re not stupid, Gracie. You’ll stay the night, and you’ll hope I’ve decided not to slit your throat over breakfast.”
“Why are you doing this?” She’s whispering and I can barely hear her, but I don’t turn around and I don’t move closer, because I don’t trust myself right now. I’m not sure if I’m going to hurt her or kiss her and I don’t want to find out which.
“Because I’m the kind of man that indulges his curiosity. Good night, Grace.”
I step into the hallway and close the door behind me.
This is a mistake. I know it as soon as I’m alone. I should go back in there and strangle her until there’s no light left in those green eyes of hers but I know I’m not going to do it, not now that I’ve stepped out of the room and left the moment behind. There’s no turning back.
I hate her for drugging my brother. I despise her for joining my club and using me to get close to him. I loathe a liar and can’t stand anyone that would try to use me for their own personal gain, especially to do something that hurts my family.
But I want her just as much and I can’t quite rectify these feelings.
I’ll push them aside and wait to see if the morning brings clarity, even though I know it won’t, and I’ll only tangle myself deeper and deeper in the mystery of who Grace is and what the hell she really wants.
Chapter 3
Grace
The first time I ever left West Virginia was three years ago to visit Riley’s apartment in LA. She lived on the edge of Hollywood in a rundown complex in this tiny studio that was barely more than a closet with a sink. I woke up snuggled in bed with her and remember clearly how she stretched and yawned and grinned at me and said, Get up, Gracie girl, we gotta go on an adventure. You haven’t seen a goddamn thing in this world but I’m gonna show you.
That was the best week of my life, and in retrospect I should’ve known it—Riley took me all over LA, to dinners she probably couldn’t afford, to hiking in the foothills, to sitting on the beach, to drinking at a real bar with more beer options than just Miller or Coors.
It was a world of grit and glamour, a world I never dreamed of, and Riley was the embodiment of it all, even if she was barely more than a struggling actress waitressing at a coffee shop to pay her bills between going out on auditions, and it didn’t matter that she barely had food on the table or a roof over her head, to me she was perfect.
Get up, Gracie girl. I can still hear her voice in my head, the voice that constantly whispers in the dark whenever I close my eyes as I stare at the strange ceiling and curl my toes into the unfamiliar silky-soft sheets. Can’t stay in bed forever. Gotta live your life, right?
“If you were still here, what would you do?” I whisper the words like Riley’s going to appear and answer, but that won’t ever happen and I know it, so I sit up and take stock.
I roll out of bed, stretch, and wonder why the hell I’m still breathing. The room’s simply furnished with a bed, two nightstands, a bureau, a bathroom, and a small closet filled with spare linens. There aren’t any clothes in the drawers, unfortunately, so I’m stuck in my outfit from last night which feels extremely risky and leaves me basically naked, but it’s better that than nothing.
Better get to it, girlie. I take a deep breath, walk to the door, open it up, and step into the hallway, and instantly the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits me like a drill bit to the forehead and I’m drawn to it like a zombie hungering for brains. I think of what Calvino said the night before: there’s nowhere for me to run, even if I wanted to try to escape, there’s nowhere to go and no amount of praying will keep me safe from a devil like him.