Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“I missed you more.” He inched back and captured my mouth with his, and he gave me a firm kiss. “Let’s get outta here.”
I nodded, and he threw my rollaboard into the back seat.
“You’re grabbing your gear at home first, right?” he asked.
“Yes.” I needed a shower too.
Minutes later, we had the airport in the rearview, and he’d updated me on the latest escapades of our children. Ellie was going through a thing, so even though Alfie and I had spoken last night as well as this morning, something new had evidently happened.
“At this rate, I think she’s collecting minutes in the time-out corner,” he said. “But God forbid you call it that. Her teacher firmly called it the calm space.”
I chuckled and rubbed his thigh.
He honked at the car in front of us, presumably for driving too slow. Or the idiot’s inability to switch lanes like a normal person. Christ.
“I’m still jealous of your evening routine these past couple of days, by the way,” he told me.
I smiled. I couldn’t lie; it’d been fantastic. After a day of too many meetings, I’d come back to my hotel, ordered a big pizza, and then I’d taken a long shower before I’d donned my robe. The food had arrived just as I’d gotten ready for a night in bed with the news running in the background and a few magazines scattered about.
“I did wish you were there with me,” I said.
“Yeeeaaah, and then you come back home, and the first thing you do is schedule a fucking tee time with Shan.”
I grinned and adjusted my tie. He thought we were playing golf, which was actually foolish. I’d never bought a neon-colored golf ball in my life, and it looked like it was going to snow any moment.
At most, this time of year, we hit up the driving range.
“It’s only for a couple of hours,” I assured. “I’ll be home by the time you get off work.”
He scratched his nose and moved over to the right lane. “About that. I couldn’t tell you earlier, but three of our guys caught the motherfuckers who attacked Mom and the other women.”
“What?” I turned my head toward him so fast that I almost hurt my neck. Shock tore through me, and I could barely believe what I was hearing. In fact, he kept talking, and I wasn’t sure I picked up more than every other word. Something about a pursuit. Something about lying low at a safehouse somewhere near Allentown.
My ears started ringing, and I felt myself check out mentally.
They’d been caught.
All this rage I’d struggled with the past several weeks pushed itself to the surface, and it became difficult to swallow.
Right then and there, I vowed to myself to stay back. I trusted Alfie wouldn’t go too far—scratch that, I didn’t trust him at all. But I trusted Shan, and he was surely involved. If I asked him to make sure Alfie didn’t end up killing those sick bastards…
Either way, if invited to tag along when Alfie went there, I had to stay at home. As much as I wanted to torture them, I wasn’t sure I could stop at that—or look myself in the mirror after.
“When are you seeing them?” I forced myself to ask.
“Tomorrow.”
I nodded slowly. My original plan had been for us to stow away the last of the moving boxes, because we couldn’t spend Christmas in a house that looked like a storage unit. Then we were supposed to start planning for the holiday.
I let out a long breath and unballed my fists.
Tomorrow.
“I’m not gonna kill them, West. I promise.”
I nodded again. Another deep breath. “Good.”
Silence followed, and I got lost in my mind. We sped up, and we slowed down. I went to war with all the different perspectives in my head. The one that called me a hypocrite for wanting them dead but needing someone other than Alfie and me to do the job. The one who wanted to take part in the torture. The one who wanted to kill them. The one who worried Alfie might need me there to hold him back.
We crossed the Schuylkill again, and we got stuck in a traffic jam.
On autopilot, I opened the glove compartment and found a pack of smokes, and I lit one up and rolled down the window a bit.
“Can you tell me what you’re thinking, papi?”
“Swear on our lives that you won’t kill them,” I said.
“I swear on our lives.” He reached out and gave my knee a squeeze. “I’ve asked Kellan and Colm to make sure I don’t cross that line. Okay?”
Okay. Okay, yes, that did feel good to hear. I just didn’t believe he could cope with the aftermath if he murdered someone, no matter how much they deserved it. This was me being selfish. I didn’t want him to suffer from trauma and nightmares following such an event. I wanted him happy and free from doubt. He struggled with that enough, to be honest.