Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
It's a sick joke that my eyes fall straight to the spot where she's listed. Her name. Her picture in black and white. Pretty, and way too young for me then.
Four years ago, Red was just a clueless kid with straight As, bound for a school in Des Moines by the looks of it. I don't know what brought her back to this town. It's a safe bet she didn't come home just to nanny for the bastard who's going to kill her brother.
“Sadie, I'm sorry.” It's my second apology tonight, and the last.
Picking the newspaper up with a sigh, I grit my teeth, stuffing everything back into its tidy box. I seal the ghosts away for another evening, giving the padlock a tug to make sure it's secure.
I move to the safe underneath my workbench. I spin the dial, entering the right combo from memory. There's a satisfying pop. I'm careful to put my gloves on before I grab the tools, look them over, and then the old maps and traffic reports I dug up from the library.
There's a lot of fine print I haven't ironed out yet. The devil's always in the details, and when it comes to offing a man and not getting caught, the details better be picture-fucking-perfect.
It's getting closer. I can feel it.
Less theory. More action. Fewer delays. Closure.
If I manage not to screw this up, I'll never have to spend another restless winter night cooped up in my shop, prisoner to hopes and dark promises.
I know what needs to happen.
First, I need to tuck this shit away, get out of here, and hit the sack. Some sleep will clear my head, make the next phase of Operation Vengeance more obvious.
Tomorrow, I'll cut Red loose. I'll let her down easy. I don't have a choice. I'll post a new ad for a nanny in town, a better one, and next time I'll make damn sure I don't bring anybody on who's ever so much as brought Jackson Kelley a drink of water.
It might delay the plan by a few more weeks, but so what? As long as this gets done. As long as I'm able to fulfill the other promise I made to myself, and to Mia, the ones I never said out loud.
I swore she'd have a normal life before school begins. If I can't get past this and rehabilitate my reputation as something other than Castoff freak, we're leaving town. I'm not having her subjected to derision from other little shits who want to make her life hell thanks to my mistakes.
Before my little girl starts kindergarten next fall, she'll have a dad who's fully alive, fully in the present, truly in this world.
Her world. Ours. No longer shackled to an ugly, secret past she'll never know.
Once Jackson dies, I'll slam this book shut, and shove almost everything in that ammo box off the steepest bluff I can find by the Mississippi.
I'm willing to risk a lot to see this through. Hanging around to watch the smoking ruins I've made out of Sadie's heart isn't part of it.
She shows up bright and early the next morning. I know who it is on the first knock, still perched at the kitchen table sipping my coffee. I put my mug down, stand up, and stomp over, jerking the door open.
“Hey, I've got a box in my trunk, if you want to give me a hand.” Her lips are just a shade or two dimmer than her dark red hair. Such a wicked contrast to the forest green in her eyes.
“What box?” I growl, patience already running thin.
She's more radiant than ever today, standing on my porch under the dull December light like a pinup. Except no pinup girl ever looked this hot in layers meant for an Iowa winter.
Just my fucking luck. If this were easy, it wouldn't be my problem.
Red cocks her head. “It's in my car. Just a few things I packed. I mean, I don't have to move in today, but I figured it'd be good to get a start. Whenever you want me, I'm –“
“We need to talk.” I take her wrist, yank her inside, backing off with a hand on her back, pointing her to the table. “Have a seat. Please.”
I know I'm screwed the second she looks at me. The trust is gone. She isn't stupid. She knows something reeks.
“What now, sunshine? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?” Her voice can't hide the frustration.
Clearly, it wasn't easy deciding to take the offer. Just makes it even harder to put on my war face, and kill this thing now. “Before I say anything else, I want you to know you've done good work. That was never in question. This isn't a quality issue.”
She sits up straighter, dropping the curl of cinnamon red hair in her fingers. Her gaze narrows, deadly serious, waiting for me to get on with it.