Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Not even on my worst day,” Callan retorts.
“Dick.” She jabs him in the arm, and a growl climbs in his throat.
Strolling to the back of the room, Callan opens a cabinet and takes out a set of keys before walking up to one of the beefy black SUVs with blacked-out windows.
“Shotgun!” Kitty shouts.
“No.” Callan shuts her down, then shifts his eyes to me. “Get in, Rogue.”
Kitty scowls at him, her eyes glaring as she pouts over the hood. “It’s fine,” I tell them both. Opening the back door, I climb inside and fasten the seatbelt.
It smells expensive in here. Black leather seats. Cherry wood dash. Chrome finishing. I whistle low. No way this doesn’t come with a hefty price tag, and there are three in this garage. I lean back in the deep seat, a sigh filtering through my lips. My sanity needs this tiny offering of distance.
Callan folds himself into the driver’s seat, his eyes finding mine in the rearview. “Are you okay being back there?”
“She’s not a child, Callan.” Kitty scoffs, slipping into the passenger seat. Popping open the center console, she pulls out a pack of gum.
“No, but she was kidnapped in the back of a cop car. Why don’t you think before being a brat?”
I shrink a little into myself, squeezing my eyes closed. Dark, haunting images of that night play behind my lids.
His harsh grip as he shoved me in the back of the car with no escape. Liquor laced breath panting over my face. Pain blooming everywhere. Gunfire piercing the silent night sky.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four
Five…
The hole in his forehead. Wide, dead eyes.
“Oh shit. I didn’t think. Do you want to swap seats?” Kitty leans over the seat to look at me, shoving the gum into her mouth.
“No, it’s fine. I promise. I just want to forget that ever happened.”
Callan clicks a button on his keys and the shutter judders and begins rising. It must be a chore opening such a big garage door every time someone comes or goes. “Everyone good?”
“Yes, let’s go.” Kitty rests her boot on the dash until Callan glares at her. Lowering her leg, she mumbles, “Sorry.”
Kicking over the engine, Callan drives us out of the compound, the front gates opening before us. The journey down this road after Callan’s mention of the police incident turns the marrow in my bones to lead. I’d expected a visit from the police to the compound by now, but so far Callan has made true on his promise that Larkin wouldn’t be found. He would be reported missing by now, though, surely? I’ve been tempted to google his name, but fear that they can trace any searches back to me.
An awkward silence thickens the air as we drive. The wind and rain beat heavy on the car windows, blurring the scenery and offering me a small mercy.
“What did they say on the phone?” Kitty looks over at her brother, breaking the silence.
“That he’s awake and asking for me,” he grunts.
“He’s talking?”
“They said he asked for me. That’s all I know.”
“Did he mention me?”
“Kit.” He exhales, exasperated.
She looks to the window, fidgeting with a thread on her jacket before huffing and switching on the radio. “Oh my god! I can’t stand how quiet it is!”
“It’s going to be okay, Kit,” I soothe, placing my hand on her shoulder.
She offers me a tight smile, resting her palm on my hand. “Now’s not the right time. But when we get back home, I’m going to kick your ass for leaving like you did,” she informs me.
A genuine smile tilts my lips.
“Noted.”
We pull into the hospital parking lot and my lungs seize. A frantic boom pounds in the center of my chest.
Callan’s gaze burns into me through the rearview, but I can’t look at him. What if this is the last time we’re all together? If Jericho admits to killing Harley, will they condemn him for it or protect him from my wrath? Fear grips me in a chokehold.
I wrap my arms around myself as Callan backs the SUV into a parking spot. Cutting the engine, they both exit the car, but I’m frozen. My hand hovers near the handle. Loneliness seeps into my heart, grief’s darkness enfolding me in its isolating grasp.
The door opens, and Callan’s large frame fills the space. I turn toward him, inhaling a shuddering breath. “Do you trust me?” he asks, his expression burning with intensity, those dark eyes full of love. My heart flutters.
“Yes.” No hesitation. No second thoughts. He offers me his hand, and I hold onto it as I hop out of the SUV.
“Then trust that I’ve got you. Trust that I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck.
He encompasses my body, surrounding me with all of him. I wish we could stay like this, basking in the glow of our love.