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)
Marshal holds his little girl closer, ruffling her dark brown hair. “He needs the right woman. Lucky him, that shouldn't be a problem anymore.”
Mia's tiny face wrinkles. “Does...does this mean mama's coming to Alaska, too?”
Mama. My heart goes to pieces for probably the thousandth time today.
Marshal just looks at me and grins. “Yeah, honeybee. I think it does, assuming she doesn't give us a warmer option. I hear Arizona's nice this time of year. Even knew a guy in Phoenix from my army days, Knox or whatever. He's doing well there, I hear.”
I wipe my brow, just imagining the furious summer heat. “Alaska it is. Sorry, I need my seasons, even if they're short.”
Mia laughs and it sets off a chain reaction. For the briefest moment, we're lost in a winter sunbeam. The clouds have lifted, the sun is shining, and everything is rosy.
Then there's a sound that doesn't fully compute in my brain.
A car door slamming. Footprints crunching weirdly close to us in the snow. A voice.
“Well, well, if it isn't the happy family. Jesus Christ, sis. I knew you came out here to talk to him, but you're running away with this psycho?” Jackson stops, only several feet away, his hand shoved awkwardly inside his coat.
Marshal turns. He presses one hand against the small of my back, holding Mia closer with the other arm. “My daughter is here. Whatever you want, it'll have to wait.”
“Oh, no, motherfucker. We're not playing that game again. I would've had you by now if I hadn't let you run, hiding behind the kid. Nearly broke my damn back skidding on the ice. I took my sweet time coming after you because I didn't want to scare her. Not gonna make that mistake again.”
“Jackson, no! She's just a little girl. Let me, please.” I'm pulling on Marshal's arms, trying to get her. He reluctantly lets go, passing her to me. “Come here, baby,” I whisper, doing my very best to cover her ears.
My brother snorts. I look up, raw hatred lighting fires in my veins. What he's become makes me sick.
“Go home. We're not out to hurt anyone. We just want to be left alone.” I don't know why I try to reason with him.
Marshal knows it won't work. He steps in front of us, spreading his arms protectively. “Let them go. At least to my truck. Then we can talk, man-to-man.”
Jackson looks me over. I guess there's a faint thread of humanity left inside him because he nods, motions to Marshal's vehicle, and finds his most condescending tone. “You get in the truck with her and stay, sis. Do not fucking move unless I say.”
I want to do so many other things. Defy him, tell him to go to hell, pull Marshal into the driver's seat and take off, leaving this madness forever. But that can't happen.
Nothing is ever easy while there's a dangerous, self-righteous demon controlling my brother.
“Let's sit, honeybee. This'll all be over soon.” It's hard to make my legs work, but I do.
Less than a minute later, she's in my lap. I press her weary face to my chest, hiding the gut-wrenching scene unfolding through the windshield no more than twenty, maybe thirty feet away.
My brother finally takes his hand out of his jacket.
He points a gun at the love of my life.
Marshal raises his hands, says something I can't hear, and rips open his jacket.
He's bearing his heart for his executioner.
I don't even look away because the tears blurring the world are too much.
They leak. They burn. They remind me how helpless I am.
I'm waiting for the gunshot to rip through the silence, but it never comes.
Instead, I see Jackson lay his gun on the ground. His heavy winter coat falls off, and he's coming toward Marshal, whose fists are bowed viciously at his sides.
I don't know what's worse once the first blow lands on my love's face: watching them kill each other in slow motion, or knowing there's nothing I can do.
He told me to keep Mia safe. He meant it. So, I do, trying to drown out the agony unfolding behind the glass.
This has to play out. I doubt my brother called the police, or they'd be here by now, breaking up this sick gladiator match.
Mia stirs in my arms. “Mama?”
“Shhhhhh. Sleep, baby. I'll tell you when to wake. This will all be over soon.” It's amazing how I'm able to sound so calm, carefully mouthing each word, watching two of the men I care about most hit the ground.
They're tearing into each other like animals.
This will all be over soon. I try to believe it, closing my eyes, dynamite threatening to blow my temples apart while I muster every last ounce of strength not to cry.
I count numbers slowly in my head, one by one, for what seems like forever.