Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
He looks back at me over his shoulder.
"I can't tell you everything."
"I'm not asking for specifics," I clarify. "A broad explanation would work."
"Cerberus as a whole rescues trafficked men, women, and children."
"Sex trafficked people?" I say, needing to sit on the side of the bed as my knees are growing weaker.
"A lot of them are sex trafficked, but there's also forced labor. A guy in the new Vegas chapter got involved with a mail-order bride sort of thing recently," he explains as he turns around and takes a seat in the armchair on the far side of the room.
It seems like he's trying to keep as much distance between the two of us as possible despite admitting just moments ago that he held me all night. Maybe he does that often as part of his job.
"I'm so sorry for causing you and your guys so much trouble. To think my situation has been pulling you from very important work."
He shakes his head as he lowers his face into his palms.
"I went to Catalyst or whatever name it had before they got shut down and reopened as Catalyst to make sure they weren't doing anything illegal. That's why I was there the night I first saw you."
Heat washes over my face even though my time on the cross seems like a lifetime ago.
"I hated that the second I saw you, I felt like I couldn't just walk away. It pissed me off, made me angry, but even more than that, it made me... curious."
Chapter 38
Jersey
"I'm completely fucked up," I confess, holding my head in my hands because I'm too much of a fucking coward to look her in the eyes right now.
"Roman, I—"
I shake my head, making her words die on her lips.
"I have a lot to say and I don't know that I'll have the courage to get it all out unless I just drop it all at your feet in one go. Is that alright?"
I lift my head enough to see her face, and although she looks exhausted, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.
"Okay," she whispers, but I inwardly wonder if she feels like I'm treating her like a therapist with my trauma dump.
"I met my wife Eden at a bar," I begin. "She was so pretty and it didn't take much of anything for her smile to brighten her entire face. She was free and didn't have a worry in the world, but I knew how dangerous it was for her. She wasn't a target or a mark. She was simply a pretty girl in a bar. We hit it off immediately. We burned hot and fast, and there was a time when I couldn't wait to finish a job with ICE and get back home to her. She got pregnant a month after we started dating, and I felt like I did the right thing by marrying her and making sure she had a home. I thought things were perfect. We had the boys, Tyler and Timothy, and I was home as often as my job allowed, but being a married single mother couldn't have been easy for her."
I grip the back of my neck and apply pressure. I can feel the wave of grief threatening to take over, and I know it will make me stop talking. I also know that she deserves to hear everything, including the reasons I've kept her at a distance.
"That beautiful smile of hers faded, but I don't think I noticed at first. All I could focus on was how unhappy she was and how often she'd complain and yell and get upset that I was never home. I started avoiding coming home. I'd take longer assignments, and although I missed her and the boys like crazy, I knew going home meant getting yelled at and accused of doing God knows what while I was away.
"I didn't know until the toxicology report came back that she had been abusing prescription drugs. I still don't know where she got the damned things from. I didn't know she was smoking. It was like my wife was a stranger to me, and we'd been together for over five years at that point.
"I think I figured she'd always be there, that the boys would always be there. I was selfish and dismissive of her needs. She fell asleep that night after taking a bunch of pills with a lit cigarette on the couch. The whole house went up in flames. I'm self-aware enough to know I didn't cause the fire, but I was the reason she was unhappy, which led to the drug use, which in turn killed my boys.
"I stayed angry for years. I hated her and what she did to us, but I'm mature enough now to see my own part in what happened. My family died because I didn't want to be at home to listen to her complain about how I trapped her in a life she never wanted. Instead of fixing what was broken and putting my efforts where they needed to be, I buried myself in work and avoided my other responsibilities."