Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The car pulls to a stop far too soon, and I blink, startled by the realization that I’m home already. Home. The word seems strange as I stare out the window in a daze, but that’s exactly what Judge’s house feels like. Only it can never truly be my home.
“Mercedes.” Santi’s voice infiltrates my thoughts. “Judge hasn’t been inappropriate with you, has he?”
His words linger between us, and for one delusional moment, I consider what would happen if I just told him the truth. If I asked for my inheritance and to be free of the chains surrounding me. Would he let me go?
I glance at his reflection in the window, and I know I’m clinging to a false hope. So I do what I’ve always done. I choke down the sadness in my throat and force a laugh.
“Come on, Santi. Get real. We both know Lawson Montgomery has no intentions of falling in love.”
When I walk into the house, it’s quiet, and I know that means Lois is either out with the dogs or at her cottage. The antique clock in the entryway tells me it’s almost four o’clock, and I don’t know how long Judge will be gone, but I know this will probably be the only opportunity I have.
It isn’t until I’m in my old room, grabbing the burner phone from beneath the pillow that a realization occurs to me. It’s Friday.
“Oh, my God.” I dart from my room and run down the hall as quietly as I can manage, fumbling with the screen on the phone as I check the time.
I have ten minutes, if my calculations are correct. It almost seems too good to be true. Like fate or kismet has intervened to give me this opportunity on exactly this day. Because every Friday without fail, I know Paolo goes to town to pick up supplies for the horses and dogs.
I don’t really have a plan as I skid into the foyer and clutch the phone in my palm, but I know I’ll have to figure something out. There are still guards out front, and there’s a good chance they could stop me from heading for the stables. But Judge has been letting me go as long as Paolo is around. Will they check Paolo’s truck if they don’t know where I am?
As I’m considering it, I come to an abrupt halt right before I open the door. Shit. My necklace. It’s the one thing I wanted to take with me. The one thing I have from Judge. Indecision paralyzes me as I glance between the stairs and the clock. I don’t want to leave it behind. But I’ve already wasted three minutes, and my heart is beating so hard that I think I will miss this chance if I go back.
“I can’t.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to put it from my mind. “I can’t.”
I release a shaky breath and open the door, wrenching myself out of it. All three guards turn to look at me as I do, and I force a smile. There’s no point in not letting them see me. If I went through the side door, they’d be far more suspicious.
“What are you doing?” the guy in charge asks.
“I’m going to brush the horses,” I tell them without waiting for an answer.
Part of me is half expecting them to stop me, but as I walk on wooden legs, I hear them mutter something before returning to their conversation, something about another guard getting his mistress knocked up.
I suck in a breath and try to quicken my pace without being obvious, slipping into the stables and darting through to the other side. They can’t see the back side of the building, and I’m just praying Paolo isn’t already at his truck. I ease open the rear stable door as quietly as I can manage, and I hear Paolo whistling somewhere nearby. It makes me pause, but I can’t tell what direction it’s coming from.
Regardless, I decide I don’t have a choice. I’m going to risk it. I step out and shut the door behind me, eyeing Paolo’s truck a good twenty feet away. I don’t know if he’ll see me running to it, but when I hear him jangling his keys, I figure it’s now or never.
I dart from the stables to the truck as quietly as my legs can carry me. Luckily, I’m light on my feet, and Paolo doesn’t stop whistling, a good indication he’s in his own little world. Even so, I’m still convinced he’s going to figure it out as I fling myself up onto the bumper and into the truck bed. It creaks as I lower myself onto my hands and knees, and I curse when I hear Paolo’s whistling falter. There’s a long moment of silence, and then he grumbles something to himself. I peek through the back window to see he’s dropped his keys on the way over here, and I release a silent prayer as I quietly edge myself as far beneath the toolbox as I can manage. When I’ve done that, I wait, hoping against hope he doesn’t check the truck bed before he gets inside.