Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
The house was bright and cheery, as always, when I walked down the stairs. My eyes went to the windows, and I thought about the man who had been killed out there last night.
Was there blood on the ground? Would the police come? What about the people who would be looking for the men?
I was lost in my own thoughts as I walked into the kitchen. Storm was sitting at the bar with a plate of food in front of him. His gaze shifted from his phone to me. “Morning,” he said, setting his phone down and reaching for the mug beside him.
“Good morning,” I replied. “You’re not going to Kentucky?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not this year. I’m here with Thatch and Wells.”
I glanced at the coffeepot, then decided I’d better stick to juice and went over to the fridge.
“Maeme left you a plate of food,” he told me.
Turning back to him, I frowned. “Where is Maeme?”
“She had to tend to some business,” he said. “She’ll be back shortly.”
I took out the orange juice, then closed the door before going to get myself a glass.
“You seem to be handling last night well,” he said.
I shrugged, not sure that was the case. When I turned back with my glass and filled it, I looked back at Storm. “What happened to that other man? The one Thatcher took.”
“Dead. He told us what we needed to know, and then Thatch slit his throat.”
I stared down at my orange juice as that sank in. He had said it as if it were no big deal. This would never be normal for me. How could it? That was someone’s life they had ended.
“I spoke to King this morning. He called, but … but I don’t think he knew about it. Last night.”
Storm raised an eyebrow. “You think he’d stay away if he knew? Fucker has a death wish where you’re concerned. He talked back to the boss as if his life was of no concern when it came to you. He’d tell them all to go fuck themselves and come running back here. Can’t tell him. At least if you want him to live.”
Blaise Hughes’s face flashed in my mind. He’d been terrifying. Beautiful but clearly powerful and ruthless. I didn’t want to think about King upsetting that man. My stomach knotted up.
“I see,” I said because I did. I saw very clearly. We had to keep King there, doing what he was told.
I took a sip of orange juice and set my glass back on the counter.
“Did you know any of your hus—Churchill’s friends? Business associates?” Storm asked me.
I shrugged. “Not really. I met some. He took me to parties, business affairs, that kind of thing in the beginning. I met people he worked with, but I didn’t really know them.”
Talking about Hill made me remember things that I wanted to forget. King made it easy to do that. He wasn’t here now though.
“When was the last time you went to one of those things? Saw those people?” Storm asked me.
I tensed. It felt as if he was digging for something, and I didn’t know what it was. I had nothing I was keeping from them. They knew more about Churchill than I did.
I shifted my feet uncomfortably. “About four months, I guess. Maybe three.”
It had been hard for him to take me places because of the bruises I had to cover up. The last event where they took their spouses, I was limping and couldn’t walk in heels. He was furious about it, too, even if he was the one who had hurt me. I’d paid for being injured with more abuse.
Storm pointed toward the oven. “Your food is in there, covered in foil.”
I started to make my way over to it.
“You were three when you went into the foster system.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
I nodded. I knew they already had my background. They’d known it before they went after Hill. Before I met them.
“Do you remember anything before then? Your mom? It says you had a mother, but doesn’t mention your father. He’s not even listed on your birth certificate.”
I opened the oven and took out the plate that was warm. I didn’t feel comfortable with this line of questioning. What was it that Storm was wanting to know? Why was I getting questioned all of a sudden?
“I don’t know. My memories are vague,” I said, closing the door to the oven, then turning back around. “Why are you asking?”
Storm was taking a drink of his coffee. He swallowed and studied me as if he was deciding if I was telling the truth. “There’re a lot of holes. Things we don’t know about you.”
I tensed. “Join the club. There are things I don’t know about me too.”
Stone’s lips twitched with an almost smile. “Fair enough. Sorry if I upset you. I’m just curious.”