Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Hey,” she said abruptly.
Immediately, I noted the difference in her tone. It was guarded and tense and I knew immediately that she had heard what Bradley knew. I hated to hear her voice sound so strange and distant. “Willow,” I began.
But she cut me off. “I’m done taking account of the repairs and possible renovations that we need. I’ll email the full report to you now.”
I knew, like me, she didn’t want to deal with Bradley’s accusation right now. “Okay,” I said quietly.
“The men that you sent to help us clear out the damage have been at it all morning. Thank you.”
“No problem,” I said.
“Right. Caleb?”
“Yeah.”
“Take care of yourself, okay?” Her voice broke then, and she quickly cut the call.
“Fuck,” I swore. I stood up and paced the room. I felt so angry, frustrated and damn helpless. I wanted to go to her and comfort her, tell her I loved her, I’d always loved her. Tell her what we had done together. What we had promised each other. Tell her about that night. How we stood in front of the burning house and made a blood promise to each other, but that would be selfish. Yes, I would make her finally understand, but would the price be too high.
No. I would bear the pain. I had broad shoulders. Step by step I would win her back. First I needed to take care of Finnegan and his lot. As long as she was safe, I knew she couldn’t resist that thing between us.
I was putting the finishing touches on a letter to my clients who had lost big yesterday, when my phone vibrated. It was a call from one of the bodyguards I had put on Willow.
“Thought I should let you know, Mr. Wolfe, looks like she has a tail on her,” he said. “We’re still in the shop and there’s a dark sedan parked down the street, opposite the launderette. It’s been there for the past four hours. Looks like there’s a man in it.”
“Keep an eye on him,” I said, shooting from my chair. “I’ll be right there.”
In no time, I’d jumped in my car and was heading to Willow’s shop. Night had fallen, so it was quite easy for me to arrive unnoticed. I parked some distance away, took my gun out of the glove compartment, and got out of the car.
He never saw me coming.
He had gotten lax in his surveillance from inside the car so by the time he looked up from his phone and noticed my approach, I was already at the passenger’s door of his car.
His window was rolled down and he was now staring down the barrel of my gun, which was pointed at his forehead. Horror flashed across his face. When I saw that it was the same guy who I had caught trailing me the last time, I shook my head.
“You again?” I muttered.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I’m just about to go into the launderette.”
“If you move even an inch, I will blow your head off right now,” I warned, as I got into the car.
“Listen, I don’t want no trouble.”
“Shut up and give me your phone,” I commanded, and with my gun pointed at his head, he didn’t dare refuse. He threw it at me and I began to scroll through his previous calls as I spoke with him.
“Who hired you?” I asked. I realized then that I should have done this from the very first time I met him. I had been too careless, but not anymore.
He shifted nervously. “I don’t know, man.”
I looked up from his phone. “How have they been keeping in touch with you then?”
“The number’s untraceable. All I get are instructions.”
“What about your payment?”
He looked around him. “It’s dropped in random locations, and I'm told to go pick it up.”
“What were you told to do here?”
He tapped a cigarette out of its box. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Yes,” I said curtly.
He put the cigarette back and looked at me sullenly. “I was told to just keep an eye on the girl.”
“What about me? There are no eyes on me?”
“I don’t know nothing about that. I just do what I’m told,” he said.
“Take me to where you live,” I ordered.
His face fell. “Look man. This is just a job to me. I have no idea what all of this is about. All I have is receipts, but even those are just records of dates and times.”
“Where are the receipts?”
“Home,” he admitted reluctantly.
In a way, I felt sorry for him. He was so wrong for the job. I’d met guys like him inside. Their lives were never their own. They were always somebody’s bitch. I’d learned a long time ago, there was no place for pity in my life. Pitying someone could mean you ended up dead.