Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Logan,” I say, resting my arse against the worktop, keeping my eye on the door for any sign of Cami.
“We need to talk.”
“You don’t say,” I quip dryly, not exactly building the trust I’d planned on. “Get the charges from Sebastian Peters dropped and I’ll talk to you.”
“How?”
How? Did he really just say that? “Just like you do everything else, Logan. Ruthlessly. Pay him. Bribe the cops that are in your pocket. I don’t care how. Just get it done.” I walk over to the pan and poke the sizzling bacon around.
“What about my girl?”
Hearing this lowlife refer to my angel as his girl not only makes my skin physically crawl, it makes my blood boil. “Cami isn’t exactly holding you in high esteem right now.”
“That’s because you’ve brainwashed her! You’ve manipulated her into bed and taken advantage of her. I can see to it that you never work again!”
“I couldn’t give a fuck if I never worked again. Don’t think I need the cash, Logan. I don’t. I need the focus, that’s all. Your daughter is providing me with that these days.” I didn’t plan on stooping to those levels. Honestly, I didn’t.
“You sick bastard!”
“Don’t call me sick when you’re playing Russian roulette with your daughter’s safety.” The metal spatula in my hand is being squeezed to the point it’s bending. I swear, if Logan was in front of me now, it would be wrapped around his fat head.
“My daughter is perfectly safe.”
“She is when she’s with me. But I’ve been doing a little digging myself, Logan. You’ve probably guessed. I know there’s an e-mail file you’ve been keeping from me, and I’m guessing it’s part of the reason you want me gone.”
His silence speaks volumes.
“Get the charges dropped.” I hang up and drop my phone and the spatula to the counter, bracing my hands on the side and breathing through my fury.
I’m at fucking war with the father of the woman I love. And worse still, I’m prepared to take him out if he gets in my way. I almost laugh at the irony. Logan brought me in to protect Cami from the enemy. Bet he never thought the tables would turn against him. I bet he never bargained for me. I close my eyes and let my strung muscles work their way down until they’re soft again.
I can’t waste time anymore. Grabbing my phone, I do what I should have done a long time ago. I call the number that’s been haunting me for years. It’s time to lay some ghosts to rest. It’s time to make things right.
Each ring gets my heart racing faster and faster, until it’s shuddering in my chest, making my breathing erratic and sharp.
“Hello?” Abbie’s voice makes my heart slam to a stop just like that. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes. “Hello?” she repeats.
There’s air, waiting to be expelled with some words, but nothing forms. I can’t speak. The silence stretches, as I search for the capability to talk, to say anything, to tell her it’s me. My determination has been flattened by the sound of her voice. Memories are thundering forward, pounding in my head. Her face. That beautiful, angelic face.
I can’t do it.
I go to disconnect.
“Jake? Jake, is that you?”
I freeze, my whole body arrested by shock. How did she know?
“It’s me.” I spit the words out before I can convince myself otherwise, and wait for her reaction.
It comes instantly. “Oh my God…” she breathes, the words disjointed and threatened by tears. “Jake, talk to me.”
I search far and wide for anything to say, but there’s nothing to be found.
“Jake, please.” She’s starting to cry now, her desperation cutting through me like acid. I look up to the ceiling, feeling hopeless and so fucking guilty.
“I’m here,” I say, gulping down some strength and vehemently denying my hand’s desire to cut the call.
“Where are you?” she asks, panic rampant.
I swallow hard. “I need to see you.”
The brief silence is filled with unspoken words. Need. I need to see her. Not want to or have to. I need to. “Okay,” she agrees. “When?”
“I don’t know. Tomorrow, maybe.”
“I’ll be here.” There’s no hesitation whatsoever.
“Good.”
“How have you been?” She’s trying to keep me on the line, trying to gauge what she might be faced with.
I can’t feed that need in her. Not now. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hang up and throw my phone across the worktop, trembling like a fucking pussy.
How can a grown man be so terrified of a female? How can she reduce me to this? It’s the exact reason I’ve stayed away. It’s the reason I’m dead to her. I try to stabilize my chaotic breathing, collapsing to a nearby chair. It’s done now. No going back. I can’t have a future if I can’t put my past to rest. I never wanted a future before Camille. I was happy residing in my fucked-up limbo, beating myself up day after day.