Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
The fucking image of the Ken Doll that wanted what was mine taunted me. I’d blocked his number from her phone, but what if she’d figured it out and unblocked him? Or he could call from another line. I didn’t want to think that she would spend time with that douchebag. Especially since we’d been together three nights ago.
She hadn’t said she loved me, but the way she’d looked at me when I was inside her the other night sure as hell felt like it. I had to leave her while she was sleeping, but it was just easier that way. I wasn’t sure I could do it if she asked me not to go. She had no idea what she would be asking of me, and I was starting to think telling her no would be something I couldn’t do. So, I had slipped away while she slept, but only after lying there, watching her, for three hours. Embedding the sight of her, the smell, the way she felt, curled up against me, into my damn soul. Something to replay when I was going fucking crazy from having to stay away from her.
The necklace I’d left wasn’t an exact replica of the one she described in her book, but when I had gone looking for a necklace like it, I’d found that one instead. It was elegant, beautiful, and flawless. I’d wanted it for her. I hadn’t left a note because, like the other gifts I’d sent her, it held significance from one of her books. I wanted her to realize it and see the meaning behind each gift.
I was regretting not leaving a note now. Unlike the books that she’d displayed in her living room, the necklace she’d not even taken out and examined. She’d closed it, cursed at me, and later shoved it in her closet. I’d replayed the video feed of her doing it at least a dozen times, trying to figure out what had triggered her temper. I still wasn’t sure why she was so upset about the necklace, and I couldn’t fucking get away and go fix whatever had upset her. I was under a damn microscope.
Unfortunately, Linc had called a meeting that I didn’t make it to because it was at seven the next morning. I was driving back from the private airstrip in Jackson when the summons came. This was where having Bane cover for me went into play. He did what I’d asked, and it saved my ass, but Linc had been more diligent in keeping tabs on me since then.
Bane’s lie about my going to a strip club in Jackson and waking up in a hotel room, hungover, with two strippers should have been sufficient, but something about it had made Linc suspicious. Since then, he’d had me being watched too damn closely. I wouldn’t have thought he’d question it, coming from Bane, but he had, and I was having to wait the shit out.
She was moving again. Must have gotten a cup to go. I stopped and leaned against the doorframe leading into my en suite while I watched as she headed in the direction of her apartment. She’d had a good outing, and if the tracker was any indication, there had been no other issues since Arden’s mother had shown up to threaten her.
My head snapped up to glare at the door when a knock sounded on it. Who the fuck was bothering me? I was busy, dammit.
“Ransom,” Forge called. “We got business to handle. You, me, and Oz.”
Fucking hell.
“What is it?” I asked, not wanting to stop watching Noa until she was safely back at her place.
“Does it matter? I don’t fuckin’ know. Oz just told me to get you and meet him in the Escalade in ten.”
With a sigh, I watched as she drew closer to the building, then shot Wayne a text to let me know when she was safely inside before shoving my phone back in my pocket. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be gone, and I wasn’t going without a way to check on her. Going to the closet, I took out my black leather jacket, then unzipped the inside hidden pocket and slipped the phone inside.
As much as I didn’t want to be taken away from my freedom to watch Noa, a little violence might help ease all the fucking tension churning inside me. Hopefully, there would be some torture involved.
Climbing into the passenger side of the Escalade, I glanced over at Oz, who was looking at the GPS on his phone in the driver’s seat.
“What are we handling?” I asked.
“Got a few overdue debts. Linc said to go collect,” he replied.
Oz was the family’s bookie in Mississippi. This was a regular thing, but especially after the holidays. Folks overspent, and when it was time to pay up, they were broke. I almost felt sorry for some of them, but Oz vetted most everyone he let into his ring, and they passed the credit test. The stupid bastards should be smarter with their cash.