Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
She was crying, by the looks of it.
“Only Emmy knew where I was…” She sniffs roughly.
At least she had the good sense to tell someone else, even if that person wasn’t me. That stings more than it should.
“You disobeyed me,” I spit. “I told you not to do anything alone. I told you not to get involved and leave it to me.”
For the first time, she glances away like she can’t stand to look at me.
The hazy light through the trees crisscrosses her cheekbones. All it does is remind me I might not have found her alive. She might never have looked at me again with anger or disgust or anything else.
That’s going to haunt me forever, the nightmare what-ifs.
The thought of finding Junie cold and lifeless.
“You barely told me anything,” she says numbly, folding her arms like she’s trying to push her emotions back in behind them. “All this was going on and you didn’t tell me shit, Dexter.”
“I told you about the plates. I showed you proof Haute’s shady as hell.”
“You gave me the bare minimum to make sure I wouldn’t get involved.” When she’s mad, there’s this rasping heartache in her voice. She looks at me, her eyes too bright and glassy. “But whatever he’s up to, this was worth it. Now we know where he keeps his cash and—”
“Cash that’s under surveillance.” I step toward her, my shoes scuffing the asphalt. “You think Haute would use that place as a drop site where any random dumbass can waltz in and grab unguarded money?”
Her nostrils flare and she looks down, tightening her arms around herself. “I understand the dangers—”
“Go inside, Junie,” I clip before she even finishes.
The way she looks at me tells me I definitely look like the asshole here, and I sound like one too.
It’s not like I suspect anyone of being able to overhear us, but there’s something safer about indoors. Less open.
Call me paranoid, but I need to know she’s absolutely safe. I also can’t let things get so heated that she runs, throwing herself at every lurking wolf imaginable.
“Fine,” she snaps, marching through the front door. I follow to see her whirl around in front of the fireplace, the late afternoon sun spinning ruby threads in her hair.
For a second, I stop and stare.
With her hands clenched by her sides and flashing eyes, she’s magnificent. A living, breathing treasure I’m fighting like hell to protect.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not doing this to piss you off,” I say, folding my arms.
Now it’s my turn to force everything inside, to keep myself from flying off the handle and screaming how close she came to disaster.
“What? Like how you’re being a giant douche?” She raises an eyebrow. “Because you’re acting like one, Dex.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I resist the urge to check it.
“Don’t push me, Sweet Stuff.”
“Don’t lecture me then. Okay, so yeah, I went there alone. I made a mistake. You might have a point through all your snarling. But still, this gave us something we didn’t have before…”
“At what cost?” I throw back. She freezes and I hate myself for it, but I can’t hold back my temper. She’s still acting like it’s a game. “We found ourselves a drop site and we probably wound up on camera or worse, seen by fuck only knows. Where do you think that goes, Junie?”
She flinches, swallowing thickly. “Look, I know it was dangerous, Dexter.”
“Do you? Because you marched in there like you’d get a pat on the head for digging at a crime syndicate. You had no fucking clue what you were risking.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” she flares.
“Don’t behave like one. What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t found you when I did?” I’m bristling now, stepping closer. “This isn’t a game, Junie. Even if you report it to the police, it’s not quick and clean like it is in the movies. By the time they make a move, it’ll be like the hidden money never existed.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She’s shouting now. Her voice rises to match mine. “You think I wasn’t scared out of my wits the whole time? When you grabbed me, my fricking life flashed in front of me. But this is my business. My life. My fight. I deserve to know what’s going on without having to stand around, waiting for you to play superhero.”
Goddamn.
So I really did scare her shitless when I surprised her at the laundromat. I may be right about everything, but it brings me no pleasure.
It feels wrong.
Like I’ve gone and broken something precious and scattered the pieces in front of us like careless, cutting shards. One little misstep and someone will wind up bleeding on the floor.
I hate it.
I hate how my blundering ass can’t figure out how to tell her I care, I fucking love you without being dragged through a pit of sharp words and acrid glances.