Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Of course it’s not. You kill people, torture them. She’s just taking money from horny, unfaithful scumbags. Yours is way worse.”
He had no idea how much worse, but this wasn’t what I’d expected from Wilder. I had thought he’d get what I was saying about her choices with men. It wasn’t like I’d not fucked immoral women most of my life. But I never wanted them again. I didn’t care about their safety to the point that I stalked them. If a woman ever got under my skin, I’d thought it would be one like Rumor or Wilder’s wife, Oakley. They were beautiful and good. They were the kind of women you wanted to birth your children. The ones you trusted enough with your heart. Your future. They didn’t make you a motherfucking lunatic.
Briar Landry was nothing like them. She was shallow. Sexy as fucking hell and funny, but she had no depth. I couldn’t trust her to mother my children. She was not the kind of woman you let get a hold on you. But here I was, being someone who didn’t need to father any children. My sanity was now in question, and I wondered why I’d missed this all these years. I’d never realized I could snap like I was about to do.
“Tell me to go back to Madison. Forget her.” As if hearing him say it would do any good. I knew I wasn’t going. I just wished like fuck I could. Be the man I had been before I tasted Briar’s pussy.
Wilder frowned. “Does it matter what I say? Could you leave if I told you to?”
I stared at him. Was it that clear on my face? Could he see the madness in my eyes? How the fuck was I supposed to hide whatever she’d done to me? No one needed to know my truths right now.
“I …” The words didn’t come.
Wilder leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s what I thought. You can’t leave her. So, go back. See where this takes you.”
“She’s not like Oakley,” I argued like that fucking mattered.
He grinned. “No, she’s not. No one is as perfect as Oak. But it’s not fair to measure her against another woman either. Oak’s taken, and family or not, I’d put a bullet in any man who tried to take her from me.”
I didn’t want Oakley. That wasn’t what I was saying, and he knew it. Drinking down the rest of my beer, I took out my phone and checked the tracking on Briar. Her car was still at the apartment. But she wasn’t. She was moving.
“Fuck,” I said, standing up.
“You going north or south?” Wilder asked.
I didn’t take my eyes off the phone. “To hell,” I replied.
“South it is,” he said with a chuckle.
“She’s headed somewhere,” I told him. “But not in her car.”
“She’s not a prisoner in her apartment.”
“No, but someone else tracked her car and wired it.”
Wilder stood up. “And you left her there?” he asked incredulously.
I looked up from the phone and saw the concern in his expression.
“She refused to go with me. I figured she knew who it was and wasn’t worried.”
Wilder’s eyes widened. “Or someone wants to get to you so they’re going through her. Thought of that? When our enemies want to hurt us, they go for our weakness.”
My enemies? I’d never thought of that.
“She’s not my weakness.”
“Is that so? Then, drive your ass on back to Madison and delete that app off your phone. Stop tracking her.”
I knew that would be impossible. I had to get back to Miami. I stood there, saying nothing.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” Wilder drawled. “Weakness.” He walked over to the desk and picked up a file. “Take this with you.”
I reached out and took the folder. “What is it?”
Wilder shrugged. “The fake identity Briar ordered. I’m willing to bet that whoever that is for is the secret she’s keeping.”
• Twenty-Two •
“We got company.”
Briar
The Buick was newer than the Accord had been, but I felt like a grandma, driving it. At least we had more room in the back seat and trunk. Not that we’d acquired anything new at our brief stop in Miami other than a dozen or so new books for Dovie. Finding the trackers had taken me a little longer than I had anticipated, but it was amazing how helpful YouTube could be on just about anything.
I knew Dovie had a million questions about Storm after what she’d heard in the apartment, but I’d not had time for all that when he left. We’d been on a time crunch, and once we were an hour north of Miami, I felt better about things.
Dovie had her shoes off and was curled in the passenger seat, reading a book. I glanced over at her, wondering if she was upset about running again. She hadn’t complained, but she rarely did. Every time we had to go, she went with it.