Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
The anxious expression on her face was slicing me open. Fuck, why did she have to make it difficult? I didn’t want to do this, but I had to. If I was going to tie her to me and have the time to make sure she never wanted to leave me, then this had to happen.
“Do you have the key?” she asked, walking toward the hallway that led to the front door.
“I told them to leave it in the car.”
Her pace picked up, and I followed behind her, dreading every step we got closer. Once this was over, I’d make sure she was reassured. Ease her fears. Promise her the fucking moon. Then, we’d go get Dovie and bring her here. I’d left cameras off the third floor of the house, which I was going to let Dovie have all to herself. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a lounge room with a minibar, flat screen, and sofa. She could have her privacy up there and feel like she had her own space.
There was plastic taped over one of the car windows that had been broken. Briar rushed down the porch stairs and hurried to the driver’s door. I knew why she’d gone there first. The money had been in an empty tampon box under her seat. It was in my safe, but soon, it would be in a high-interest savings account for the day Dovie went to college—or whatever she chose to do. Briar didn’t need it anymore.
I held my breath for a moment, preparing myself for her reaction when she checked for the money and found nothing. I’d not even left the box. The sight of her entire body tensing as she began to frantically search the front of the car, then moving to the back, pulling out the boxes that had been ripped open and tossing her things—which Marty had strewn about so that it’d appear as if it had been searched—out of her way had me fisting my hands at my sides to keep from going to her and explaining. I couldn’t do that, but, fuck me, this was hard.
She moved to the other side of the vehicle with a stricken look on her face. I’d put that there. I never wanted to do it again. She jerked open the passenger door and began her search there, but I hadn’t found anything of significance there. I fucking hoped I hadn’t missed another money stash. I wanted her completely reliant on me.
Unable to stand back any longer and watch this, I made my way to the car. “What’s all missing?” I asked.
She stood up and placed her palms on the roof of the car. Her eyes met mine, and I saw the unshed tears glistening in them. I needed to be shot. Fuck that. I needed to be beaten to death. Moving quickly, I made my way around the car and gently took her arm, pulling her into me. Wrapping my arms around her tightly was the only small relief I was going to get from the pain in my chest.
“They took all the money. Everything. It’s all gone.” Her voice was hoarse.
“You don’t need the money. I’ll handle it.” Because I already was handling it.
She sniffled and shook her head. “No. This is my problem. Not yours.”
Fucking hell. I had known she was gonna do this, but still. “Your problems are now mine. I’ll handle it.”
She let out a sob, then buried her face against my chest. “I hate this. I hate being … vulnerable to …”
She didn’t finish that sentence, but I knew what she was going to say. She hated needing anyone. She’d never allowed herself to, and it was going to be a fight. One I would win.
I ran my hand over her hair gently before taking a fistful and pulling her head back so that she was looking up at me. Those eyes were supposed to be happy. I didn’t want to see her like this. Not when I was going to give her every fucking dream she’d ever had.
“You might hate it now, but you’re going to trust me. You’ll see that I can fix it all for you. No more worrying. No more running. You have me. You don’t need anything else.”
She sniffled again, and I massaged her head where I’d yanked at her hair. I didn’t want to hurt her. I needed to check that. My frustration with her not giving in to me made my temper flare, but I could control it.
“I was going to use most of that money to get Dovie help. She wasn’t born mute. Trauma took her voice. She needs to see a specialist and a therapist. She needs to get an education. All things that I was going to get for her.”
My girl had no idea. Not yet. I’d set up appointments for Dovie to see a specialist and therapist. There was a Catholic school thirty minutes from here that had a waiting list. It had classes for the hearing impaired. Dovie would be able to communicate with sign language there. The waiting list meant nothing for me. The priest was in our debt.