Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
But with Hallie missing, she couldn’t say any of that. If he realized her daughter had been taken, he would fuck being circumspect and move heaven and earth—burning down the world if he must—to get Hallie back. Not only would her daughter be gone forever, but she might lose him, too.
“No.” She clutched her hands in her lap, staring at her interlocked fingers so she didn’t have to see the hurt on his face. Tessa didn’t have to pretend to cry; the tears were right there when she realized that Zy would stop investing his heart in someone who wouldn’t commit. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He nodded, not saying another word until they pulled up in front of the office, then he stopped and let her out at the door. “Then we don’t have anything to talk about until you make up your mind. Go inside. I’ll bring your car back before five.”
Tessa bit her lip. Her intention to reassure him had blown up spectacularly in her face, and she couldn’t do anything to keep him from drifting away, maybe for good. “Please don’t be angry.”
But that was a losing battle, and she knew it.
He huffed. “Too late.”
The next day seemed like a rinse and repeat of the previous day, complete with a too-busy schedule and Tessa’s standoffish bullshit.
About two o’clock, a stranger had strolled in. One-Mile had introduced him as Matt, one of his oldest friends. Apparently, they’d spent summers together in Wyoming growing up. Who knew? Certainly not Zy. Hell, he’d had no idea the sniper had any friends at all. Then came the kicker. Apparently, Matt had worked some cold missing-persons cases back home in the past and he had a particular set of skills, whatever that meant. At this point, Zy didn’t care. If the bosses had hired him to help find Kimber’s trail, that meant they weren’t making progress.
Fuck.
By the time he pulled up at Trees’s place, Zy was over the day. He turned off the layers of security around the joint, one by one, then let himself inside, carting the groceries and other supplies his buddy had requested. Then Zy turned on the lights, pumped up the heater, and lit a couple of scented candles to air out the musty smell.
Go fucking search the whole place before I get home…
Zy really didn’t want to. After another day of wondering whether he and Tessa would even make it until the end of the week, he didn’t fucking feel like tearing apart his best friend’s house. But since they ran the risk of being out of a job in the next eleven days, he owed it to them all to run down every possibility, even the ones he felt sure would be a dead end. At least he could tell the bosses he’d really, truly turned over every stone.
You haven’t searched Tessa at all. Hell, you’ve flatly refused to even consider her a suspect.
Yeah, and that changed tomorrow.
An hour and a half later, Zy had been through every room in Trees’s place, along with his prep bunker. The fucker was so orderly. Everything the big guy stored was aligned, wrapped, dated, and secured. Nothing was ever out of place.
Zy snorted. He was lucky if he remembered to turn on his dishwasher once a month.
In the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of water, leaned against the counter, and—he couldn’t help himself—texted Tessa.
Can I come over later tonight? We should talk.
Please don’t. I’m still not ready.
Will you ever be or do you just want me to go the fuck away?
Zy…
But that was the only answer he got.
Son of a bitch.
He sighed, tempted to swap out his water for that unopened bottle of vodka he’d seen on Trees’s pantry shelf, but he’d never been the guy who drank away his girlfriend problems. He’d never even felt a twinge of distress over a woman before. He’d always snickered at those pussy-whipped saps. But he got it now, and he felt sorry for every poor, brokenhearted bastard he’d ever derided in the past.
He was one of them now.
Since yesterday afternoon, he’d been too preoccupied to eat. Sleep? Fuck no. That wasn’t happening. He merely punched his pillow and tried to figure out what was troubling Tessa…and if she might actually be their mole. Splice in a memory of her body beneath him, filled with his cock and crying out in orgasm, and Zy wasn’t sure whether pounding his fist into a punching bag or around his nagging-hard dick would clear his head and improve his mood.
In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He pulled it free, disappointed to see the message was from Trees, not Tessa.
There in ten. Everything ready?
Yep.
Thank god. I need to be more than a foot away from this woman.
Or he would fuck her. Zy read the subtext loud and clear. Hell, he’d lived it for months with Tessa, until her shit had hit their fan.