Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
In a world full of evil, they are taught to be the best.
So I tried to piss him off. Afraid he’d know that I saw him downstairs. That I might think he actually cares about me. It’s stupid, really. To think he’d care what I feel anyway.
Getting up, I hear my phone ding. I open it up to see it’s a text.
BLAKELY: Hey, girl. How are you doing today?
She and Ellington have both been texting me ever since I was stabbed. I’m guessing Tyson told Ryat and Easton what happened. Then they told their wives.
ME: Good.
What else is there to say? Hey, I’m doing great. Just got fired from my job and now I’m pretty much on house arrest because my husband thinks someone wants to kill me. But he hasn’t told me that. I just overheard him while he was killing a guy.
It pings again.
BLAKELY: That’s great to hear. Let me know when you’re feeling better and want to get out and about. I’ve still got to do some shopping for the babies, and I owe you a lunch.
Biting my bottom lip, I try to think of how to respond to her. I can’t go out and be seen with her, or anyone for that matter. Not after what I heard that guy say to Tyson earlier. I can’t put anyone else in danger. Ryat already threatened me. I’d never be able to live with myself if anything happened to her or the babies because of me. I’d let Ryat kill me if I was the reason something happened to his wife.
I start to type back a response to tell her that I’m not sure I’m ready to go out just yet but stop myself. My heart beginning to race. “Shit!” I never told Tyson about the pictures on my other phone that’s in my locker.
Hurrying out of bed, I throw on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and then run downstairs. I run into the locker room and unlock it. Yanking the door open, I freeze when I see the phone isn’t in there.
Where the fuck did it go? I know I put it back in there after I charged it long enough to come on. It’s been ten days since I saw it. I haven’t been in here since then.
Shutting the locker, I lean against it and sigh. Now what the fuck do I do? I can’t tell Tyson that my father gave me a phone and then I lost it.
FORTY-TWO
TYSON
Senior year at Barrington University
I enter the hospital with Whitney in my arms and am met with nurses. Ryat called while on our way. “Gavin,” I rush out. “I want Gavin.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s not here.” They take her from me, laying her on the gurney. They start to wheel her away, and I follow after them.
“I want…”
“He’s not here,” a nurse says, slamming her hands into my bloody shirt, pushing me to a stop. “But I promise Dr. Finch is just as good.” Then she turns and takes off after them, leaving me alone.
I pace the waiting room, my bloody hands fisted in my hair, trying to put the pieces together. I didn’t see her phone, but she had called me from it. No car. No purse. Her clothes were torn and dirty, but there wasn’t any dirt on the floor. Just blood.
Then there’s the question of the baby. Is she really pregnant? If so, is it mine? My mind is racing, and so is my pulse. I can’t focus.
“Ty?”
My head snaps up to see Ryat standing, he nods to a doctor that’s walking our way. I can see it written all over his face. She’s gone.
I’ve been sitting at my desk for three hours now in my office, my mind on that day once again. I’ve accomplished nothing but staring at a wall.
“Boss?”
I look up to see Colton staring at me expectantly. They’ve changed out of their bloodstained clothes after burying my latest victim.
He and Finn both stand there, hands in their pockets, waiting for an order. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start. The most rational thing to do would be to put my wife in a jail cell with twenty-four-hour guards. She’d hate me, but at least she’d be alive.
“Go through his phone,” I finally say. “Every text, every picture. Every fucking person he’s called, I want to know about it.”
They nod.
“He’s not a Lord,” Finn mentions.
“What about it?” I snap.
“How would he know so much if he wasn’t one, sir?”
That’s a good question. He could have been guessing, but he was spot-on. “He has to know someone. Check any connections to a Lord in my senior class.” I order, but even I know it’s a long shot. Not many knew what really happened, and the ones that do would never speak of it.