Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“I forgive you, too.” He dropped the thumb drive on the floor between them and crushed it with his boot.
“I need you.”
“I need you, too.
“I love you.”
A rush of air escaped his lips, and he grinned. “Wow, that’s a great feeling.” His grin widened. “I love you, too.”
They were back to staring and smiling again.
“You,” she breathed.
“No, you.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Not enough.” He checked his watch. “Twenty minutes.”
Someone, probably Cole, had decided this was the ideal window of time to enter her house. She needed to pack the few things she wanted to keep. The rest would be donated and the keys turned over to a real estate company.
“Twenty minutes.” He kissed her lips and stepped back. “Pack what you want from the bedrooms. I’ll do the downstairs.”
“You don’t know what I want to keep.”
“You sure about that?” He winged up a brow.
“I’ll check your work.”
With a chuckle, he pocketed the broken thumb drive and ambled toward the stairs. She watched him go with a flutter of hummingbirds in her belly.
He stopped on the top step and gave her a strange look.
“What?” she asked.
“I live a crazy, filthy, dangerous life.”
“I know.”
“Reading about it in emails isn’t the same as living it. I make decisions and do things that sane people would never fathom.”
“In case you didn’t notice, I’m not the sanest person in the world. You’re not going to scare me away.”
“Prove it.”
“Oh, I will.” She pushed back her shoulders.
He nodded, smiled, and vanished down the stairs.
Maybe he was a bad guy, but he’d committed acts of bravery and self-sacrifice and made inconceivable progress in his efforts to decimate human sex trafficking. His victories weren’t celebrated or recognized in the news. No one knew what he and his team did in the shadows of the underworld.
Many might consider him a ruthless thug. A villain, even. But in her eyes, he was an unsung hero.
Her hero.
Nightfall darkened her bedroom. She turned on the lights and went to work, sorting through clothes and collecting keepsakes. She didn’t own much, hadn’t kept anything from her life with Mason.
When her twenty minutes were up, she’d filled five large duffel bags. Grabbing two, she made her way downstairs.
She dropped the bags in the entry, turned the corner into the living room, and slammed to a stop.
Masked men. Armed. Three of them, all aiming rifles at a naked man who was gagged and restrained on her couch.
It takes three seconds to make a life-or-death decision.
She blinked, paralyzed, unable to believe her eyes.
Mason.
His bulging, watery gaze fastened on her, his cries muted behind a wad of cloth. Rope bound his arms and legs, crisscrossed his chest, and tied around the sofa.
Why was he in her house? Why the fuck was he naked?
Where was Tommy?
Her heart sprinted as she jerked her attention to the three gunmen. Black ski masks covered their faces and hair. Black jeans and shirts molded to muscular builds.
Familiar statures.
Safe.
The masked head in the middle turned in her direction, staring through the narrow eye opening. She knew him intimately, from the tips of those boots to the glint in those golden eyes.
She pressed her lips together, angry, worried, and intrigued.
Don’t say his name.
Whatever this was, he’d masked himself to remain anonymous. Every word she spoke in front of Mason would need to be chosen carefully.
Looking closer at the other two men, she recognized Van’s arrogant posture and Luke’s towering height.
Tommy, Van, and Luke. Masked and armed. Terrorizing her ex-husband.
A sheen of sweat glistened on Mason’s body. His belly, softer and rounder than she remembered, quivered with the heave of his muffled sobs. His dick shriveled between his legs as if retreating in fear.
The team wouldn’t have lured him here. It was too risky. If she had to guess, he’d showed up unannounced to pester her again about coming back to him.
He didn’t have Paul Kissinger to report her activity. She’d quit her job—a phone call she’d made two weeks ago—and she’d vanished after she’d called him from the motel room last month.
He had no way to track her anymore. But the team was tracking him.
They would’ve known he left El Paso, which was a five-hour drive away. The window of time to pack up her house made sense now. Tommy knew Mason was coming and wanted to make sure they were here when her ex showed up.
For what purpose?
It took her a few seconds to put this much together and another few seconds to force her feet into the living room.
Tommy’s eyes followed her, studying her reaction.
She’d told him not to kill Mason, but she’d never put a limit on anything else. Threats? Torture? There were many levels of pain.
Blood whooshed through her veins as she stepped closer.
Mason bucked and thrashed, howling soundlessly behind the gag. From his perspective, they were both in danger. There were armed, masked men in her house, and he couldn’t protect her.