Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Wait, you’re not yet—”
I swallow her breathless protest with a kiss. Her soft lips part on a gasp, and I invade her mouth, gorging on her addictive taste and feel. It’s not the right place or time, but I can’t stop myself, the hunger surging through my veins heating my skin to a boil.
She loves me.
She chose me.
She abandoned her life to save me.
It feels like the fever is upon me again, only there’s no pain attached. I burn with the need to have her, to feel those gentle hands on my skin. She’s mine, now without reservations, and as I guide her hand under the sheets, the last shackles of our dark past fall off, leaving us joined in the present.
Together, no matter what.
40
Henderson
I smile as I read the email that just hit my inbox.
Sokolov’s unfortunate escape aside, my plan has worked as intended, especially in regard to his allies. The use of an Esguerra-manufactured explosive in the terrorist attack has opened everyone’s eyes to the danger presented by the arms dealer’s illegal empire, and the special protection Esguerra had enjoyed courtesy of his quid-pro-quo relationship with the US government is gone. He and all of his associates are now fair game, and a team is already on the way to Lucas Kent’s residence in Cyprus.
Even better, Interpol has come through, just as I hoped they would. The Ivanov brothers have been spotted in Geneva, which means Sokolov might not be far. In fact, my contact is tracking down a rumor about a secretive clinic in the Swiss Alps that specializes in patients on the wrong side of the law.
If all goes well, most of my problems will be over soon.
In a few hours, Kent, Sokolov, and two of Sokolov’s Russian assassin friends will be dead, and before long, the authorities will get the remaining assassin, Anton Rezov. Then it’ll just be a matter of dismantling Esguerra’s criminal organization and getting the kingpin himself.
Once that’s done, these monsters’ reign of terror will be over, and my family and I will be truly safe.
41
Sara
Smiling, I stride down the hallway, my lips swollen and tingling from the blowjob I just gave Peter. I suppose I should’ve expected something like this, given my husband’s superhuman libido, but he still caught me by surprise.
In my mind, bed-bound patients and sex don’t mix.
Not that Peter is a typical patient. From the moment we brought him in and hooked him up to an IV, he’s been exceeding all expectations—mine and the clinic staff’s. It’s like all of his iron will has been redirected toward healing. Within hours of our arrival, his fever had broken, and if the doctors hadn’t sedated him to promote rest and recovery, he would’ve regained consciousness then.
A nurse passing me in the hallway smiles and says hello, and I respond with the same.
I like the staff here. They’re nice, even though their patients are some of the worst criminals known to mankind. Not that I have a lot of room to judge.
I’m now a criminal myself.
I shot a man in cold blood.
I haven’t been able to process that yet, just as I haven’t been able to think about my parents—or what it means that we’re fugitives, our pictures all over the news. I’ve been focusing on the positives instead, rejoicing that we’re both here, alive and free.
That I still have Peter and our baby.
It helps to take it moment by moment, to move from one task to another. When I stay busy, I don’t notice the fraying of those dangerous edges, or the growing pressure of grief. I’m even able to smile, though a part of me remains numb inside.
It’s almost like when I pulled that trigger, I killed something within me.
By taking a life, I lost a piece of myself.
“Hello, Dr. Sokolov,” Dr. Jart says as I walk into his office. “How’s your husband?”
“Better.” I smile at the older man. “Much better.”
His bushy gray eyebrows rise. “Oh? He’s awake?”
“Definitely. Though I might’ve… worn him out. When I left, he was sleeping again.”
“He’ll be doing that a lot,” Dr. Jart says. “His body needs sleep for healing.” He stands up and walks around his desk. “But I’m sure you know that.”
“I do,” I admit, watching as he takes out a huge book from his bookshelf. With his grouchy exterior, he reminds me a little of my boss Bill, though personality-wise, Dr. Jart is much friendlier.
I had briefly met the doctor last year, when I’d spent two weeks here after the car crash. When he came in to check on Peter’s wounds the other day, he recognized me and we got to talking. Upon learning that I’m an OB-GYN, he invited me to assist with a patient in labor—which I did gladly, once I made sure Peter was stable and resting.
Anything to take my mind off the events of the past few days.