Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
"Speak a word of this and you'll regret it," I say, looking over my shoulder at Roxanne, before opening the back door.
"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," she says just as I walk outside.
I bend down, looking at my driver through the passenger window, before opening the back door and climbing inside.
His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, and either I'm delusional or he's relieved that I'm in the car. I don't mention the bleeding cut on his head, and neither does he. He waits for me to get my seatbelt on before pulling out of the alleyway.
I stare out the window for the entire ride back to the house, my mind locked on memories from so many years ago.
I have to be going insane. There's no way Luke is alive, and even less of a chance that he'd come back for me.
My need to escape, to feel safe, is really messing with my head. Damien hitting me a couple of days ago had to have jiggled something loose in my mind for me to make up such a thing.
As we pause at the gate to gain entry to the property, I consider what might've happened if I had turned back and looked at the stranger in the car. If he was an enemy, he could've simply shot me in the back. I realize how crazed I am when I consider that maybe getting abducted by someone could end with me having a better life than the one I have. That's pure insanity. Things like that don't really happen. If it was someone wanting to take me, they'd use me as a pawn against Damien, only they'd overestimate my value to him. I don't think Damien would be angry about me being taken other than the fact that someone had something of his. I don't see the man putting much value on my life these days. He's head of the organization after removing my father. I only exist to him as someone he can manipulate, abuse, and boss around. I serve no other purpose for him, other than whatever grace my presence gives him for the other crime families nearby. To most, family is everything. You don't even so much as breathe a bad word about them in public, despite what might be going on in private.
By the time Samuel makes it up the long driveway, I've determined that the truth is one of two things. There's a very slight chance that I'm losing my mind and making shit up, but that doesn't explain the injury to Samuel's head. I know better than to ask what happened, and keeping my mouth shut now may mean he keeps his mouth shut later. He may even lie about the injury rather than admit that something he did or didn't do put me at risk.
The second consideration is that Luke really is alive, and I'm not crazy after all. It wouldn't explain why he left and never came back for eight years. If that's the case, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for the things I've endured in his absence. He was the strong one, years ago. I was weak and couldn't admit my love for him. That would've gotten us both killed, and I knew deep down, he wouldn't want that for me.
We both knew what a risk us being together was. He wanted to take it anyway.
Memories of what he told me all those years ago, when Damien caught us in my room together, cross my mind.
He was a federal agent. He was the enemy. All cops are, according to my father, even the ones on payroll because they're the ones who will turn on us the quickest to save themselves if they're faced with the decision.
"Miss?" Samuel says, bringing me back to the present, still sitting in the back of the car.
"Sorry," I mutter before climbing out and walking up the front steps.
I've done nearly nothing today, but the events have still left me feeling as if I've been trekking through the woods for months without food or water. I'm completely drained from the day's events.
I head upstairs to the bedroom but opt to turn toward the library instead. I know what it's like to want to curl up into a ball and try and forget the world, but I know that's not something I can do. I open the door to the library and arrow right to my favorite chair, picking up the book I've been trying to read for weeks. I open it, pull out the bookmark, and place it on the arm of the chair. I know without even looking down at the page that the words will swim before my eyes. I already feel the threat of tears burning inside my nose.