Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
There are dozens of pockets like these through the hills, some densely wooded, some filled with ponds or creeks, and some clear. This one was clear-cut by logging ages ago, and it’s been untouched for so long that some of the saplings have started taking root.
Except those saplings are pulled up, piled along one side, stripped of their branches and waiting to be laid out to pave a makeshift road.
The usual cover of dead leaves has been swept aside, leaving bare earth.
The old logging trail looks reopened, too, the overgrowth trimmed back for a path just wide enough for a truck.
There’s no one there now, but just in case, I edge back silently and make my way to Talia. She’s tucked between two tree trunks, making herself small.
She watches me like a nervous deer as I draw closer.
“They’ve been here recently,” I whisper. “Cleared the area for setup. They’ll probably roll in and put down stakes tonight. We should find a good spot to camp and wait.”
Talia nods slowly. “Will this be different from last time, though? What kind of proof will give you a warrant?”
“Not sure yet.”
I take her hand, twining my fingers in hers and pulling her up before I lead her deeper into the woods.
We need to scout out a good camping spot.
Rolf’s paws whisper against the fallen leaves as he patters at our heels.
“Frankly, I could’ve taken down the Jacobins alone a while ago. Clue the guys in and set up a raid when they’re at one of these sites. Bring in Raleigh PD to surround them before they pull their disappearing act. Only, that would leave Xavier flapping in the wind, wild and free, and he’d just find someone else to take their place eventually. In all these years they’ve never given me any concrete evidence linking them to each other. All I can do is wait for my moment.”
Talia goes silent behind me, her steps dragging.
I stop, glancing back.
“What is it?”
She stops and stares down at her feet. “Cocaine. That’s how Xavier makes his money, isn’t it?”
“One of many ways. He’s also involved in some shady foreign real estate investments and a few failing private capital ventures. Though I suspect they’re fronts for other dark money.”
“Wait, that means…” She pulls at her lower lip, her delicate face so crestfallen it looks like she’s about to cry. “The money for Grandpa’s treatment. It’s coming from the same crap that killed your brother.”
“Maybe,” I admit slowly. “You can’t beat yourself up over that.”
“But it’s filthy, Micah. Blood money.”
Goddamn, I hate the tears in her eyes with a vengeance.
I also don’t know where this urge to comfort her comes from.
I haven’t had a nurturing bone in my entire life. Think I used it all up bandaging my brother’s wounds at an early age, along with my own.
Somehow, Talia just brings it out in me. She’s huddled in my arms again.
“I see it differently. By doing something good with that money, you’re making it clean. We can’t undo what’s already done. You not taking his money won’t change where it came from. At the very least, it can help save your grandfather.”
Yes, I know. The more I talk, the more ethically grey it sounds.
No, I don’t fucking care.
Truthfully, I don’t know how Talia lives like she does.
Taking so many things to heart, feeling everything so much.
She’s practically vibrating with emotion as she leans into me, her small fingers curling against my arms.
There’s something about the weight of her, her softness, her curves, the way she fits into me. It’s more than just gritty desire for her flesh.
The way she quivers when I touch her.
The way she smells, vanilla-sweet and heady.
The way she feels so damn right.
I don’t mind holding her as long as she needs, but after a couple minutes she pulls away and flashes me a brave smile, wiping one eye.
“Let’s keep moving. We need a place to crash before the mosquitos come out,” she says.
Our campsite goes up next to a small creek running through a break in the trees.
There’s just enough room to build a fire and lay down our sleeping bags. No tents tonight.
Working together—while Rolf hops around in the creek like the big mess he is—it doesn’t take long to dig a fire pit and start working on a quick dinner.
We’ve got time to kill before the Jacobins’ usual late-night work starts. I want the fire banked by then, no fresh smoke or cooking smells to give us away or scare them off.
So we toast flatbread with cheese over the fire, talking casually while we eat.
As Talia finishes licking a bit of melted cheese off her finger, she looks at me. “Hey, do you think you could send me that pic you took of Still Lake? It was really good.”
“Sure.”
I dig out my phone and text the photo to her.