Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
And now her.
But Maggie topped them all. Because she needed him. She was delicate and precious. Infinitely vulnerable.
She needed him to stand between her and the world in a way the others didn’t.
So that’s what he’d do.
He’d been holding back. No more. The real Jack was coming out to play, and though he understood that might be scary for her.
But nothing was more terrifying than not knowing where she was or if she was safe.
Nothing.
Climbing onto her bed, he brought her pillow up to his nose. It still smelled like her.
Strawberries and vanilla.
He would find her. He had to.
He grabbed the hand reaching for him, flipping the person over onto the other side of the bed, then straddling their hips.
“What the fuck, Jack! Get off me, you asshole.”
Ian.
He’d known it was him as soon as he woke up. But still . . . the other man needed a lesson.
“Don’t touch me.”
Ian’s eyes widened. “Fuck, Jack. How bad are you?”
“She’s gone. How bad do you think I am?” he snarled back.
Ian let out a sigh. “Fuck. All right, get off me. I need you to come look at something. They’ve made a move.”
“Who? The people that took her? Did they ask for a ransom? What is it?”
Ian shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. “It’s worse than that. Come see.”
Jack followed him down to the kitchen as Jameson stumbled in from the living room. He’d insisted on sleeping on the couch. He should have gone home. Gone to work. But he said he was here to help.
Jack glared at him.
Jameson ran his hand over his haggard face. “Jack, how many times do I need to say that I’m sorry I called you guys away from her?”
He knew it wasn’t right to blame Jameson. Jack was the one to blame. For leaving her.
Won’t happen again.
“I’m worried about her too,” Jameson said.
“I know,” Jack said. “I just want her back.”
“Let’s concentrate on the matter at hand. Look.” Ian turned the laptop around so they could see the screen. It was one of those shitty tabloid websites.
But this time, he couldn’t ignore what was on the screen.
Because those were fucking photos of him. With Ian.
And Maggie.
A photo of him out with her after their time at the bouncy castle. Another of them smiling at each other. Images of her with Ian.
All of them innocent until Ian scrolled down.
“Motherfucker,” he spat out.
There were images of them on the rooftop. How the fuck had they taken photos of them up there?
“Did they set up cameras?” he asked.
Their genitals and Maggie’s breasts were all blurred. But it was all too obvious what they were doing.
Together.
There was another image of them in the arcade. The two of them pressed around her while Jameson stood close by. Then one with Jameson helping her bowl.
Jameson sucked in a breath.
Was he worried about what people might think?
But when Jack glanced over at him, he just looked intent. Focused.
“How did they get these?” Jameson asked. “Was someone following us?”
“What does the article say?” Jack asked. He didn’t have the patience to read it.
“Basically, the reporter plays heavily on her being a champion athlete, how she was going to the Olympics when she broke her hip. How she’s ice skated again,” Ian said.
Jack hated that.
That she’d lost something she loved.
“Then it goes on to talk about Escana. How wrong the relationships are here. Basically, the article accuses us of corrupting and using a young girl who had her hopes and dreams shattered. And by us, I also mean the Escanaian Royal Family since they not only don’t condone harems but have them of their own. There’s speculation that she might have been bride kidnapped.”
“She’s fucking smiling in all those photos,” Jameson said. “Are they really going to say we’re forcing her?”
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Jack asked.
Ian shook his head and turned the laptop around.
“Show me,” Jack urged. “I need to see.”
“We’ve been summoned to the palace for a debrief,” Ian said.
“Show. Me.”
Ian sighed, his reluctance more than obvious. But he turned the laptop back. And there was the last image.
She looked severely beaten. Broken. And so terrified.
Where was she? There was a white background. Was it a wall? A tent? Were there any clues about where she might be held?
“What the fuck?” Jameson said. “Are they trying to accuse you of harming her?”
“There’s no caption with the image,” Ian said. “But it’s implied that we hurt her. And there are interviews with several concerned parties claiming to have seen her upset and injured. Including a doctor at the hospital who treated her.”
“What? Who?” Jameson shot out. “Evans? I’ll fucking kill him!”
Jack got up. The rage was white-hot inside him. He needed to expel it, but he didn’t want to hurt Ian or Jameson.
So he turned his attention to the wall.
Smash!
Pain rocked through him.
Smash! Smash!