Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
My mind blanks.
This is white noise. Static. The anger washes out in a flood, chased away by a coldness that feels like biting fear.
“What are you talking about?”
“There she is. Finally listening, huh?”
“Harry, I swear—”
“Old problems have an annoying way of resurfacing. Particularly when they’re on video. They say the internet is forever, and they aren’t wrong.” He chuckles, and that chill spreads down my spine, paralyzing me.
Dr. Ezzie stares past me at the window, resigned to the disaster unfolding, but I shake my head.
This is the sort of threat you can’t explain to anyone without total humiliation.
I swallow the rock in my throat.
No, my past with Harry is something I’ll take to my grave.
Although I have the vicious suspicion I’m about to learn that’s harder than I ever dreamed.
“You won’t. You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper.
“I wouldn’t do anything, of course. It’s just like those pesky code issues, I’m afraid. They pop up when you least expect it,” he continues. I can hardly breathe. “But I wonder what would happen to Pruitt if your past came oozing up? Reputation’s everything at his level. I’m sure you’re aware.”
. . . Is he bluffing?
My mind races until I’m dizzy.
He can’t have the boat clips after all these years.
Surely, he doesn’t.
But just because he scrubbed his accounts doesn’t mean the clips aren’t saved somewhere.
And he’s right about one thing—the internet makes terrible secrets immortal.
My eyes sting. I blink hot tears back. Every breath feels like a hacksaw in my chest.
If anything can take him down, it’s calm, ice-cold rage. Not blinding threats and bluster.
Brady was right. I need to fight fire with fire and—
Oh my God, Brady.
He’s the one who’ll suffer if Harry spills my dirt. Being engaged means he’s vulnerable too.
I need to think. There must be a way out of this.
There has to be. But my mind skids around like a helpless dog on an ice rink. Zero traction.
“Still there?” Harry prods.
“Don’t try it,” I clip.
“Not me, again. But as for some brutish little hacker, well, I can’t be blamed for that. It happens all the time now. Sometimes those data breaches reach back for years.” He pauses. “What will you do, LeeLee? Spend your hard-earned money on lawyers, chasing ghosts? Maybe more of your fiancé’s money? I suppose he can afford legal bills for days. Or maybe you’ll be smart and let this go. Walk away, save everyone a massive headache.” He clucks his tongue softly. I can just imagine him twirling that devil’s fork of a mustache. “Don’t fret too much, doll. If it turns out I was ever compromised by leakers, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Shut up!” My voice hitches, exploding into the phone.
My lips are numb.
“It’s a lot to take in. I understand. Choose your next words wisely, Lena, and your next move. I certainly don’t want this to be messy and needlessly complicated—and that goes for both of us as well as your beau.”
I barely hear him drumming his fingers, too much like a ticking clock, right before the phone drops.
“Lena? Lena?” Dr. Ezzie shakes me gently by the shoulders, but I’m unresponsive.
All of Brady’s warnings sink in like arrows in my back.
It doesn’t matter if I’m older and wiser and determined not to break.
I’m still a hostage. Captive to a monster who won’t stay out of my life, and it overshadows everything I wish I could be.
XX
Like Cats And Dogs
(Brady)
Wendy beams at me on the screen.
Her hair looks just as wild and windswept as always, this time with a pencil thrust through it.
That’s one of my favorite things about her—and the farm. The fact that she’s authentic.
No dressing to impress. No fakery. No minced words.
There are days when I’m jealous of her ability to kick optics to the curb.
I’m in my home office that doubles as a studio. I glance at my phone, then force myself to pay attention to the conference.
“I’ll send you the details soon,” Wendy says, not seeming to notice my distraction.
Probably because it’s totally out of character.
Until now, work was my world.
It still is—mostly.
“Thanks,” I say. “That’s incredible. Exactly what we’ve been waiting to hear.”
She grins. “Me too.”
Finally, we’re closing in on a breakthrough. The call outlined a new farming technique they’ve developed that’s producing a greater organic crop yield for heirloom grains and legumes that are appealing to dogs.
A path through the wall we’ve kept smacking.
Taste and affordability.
I should be over the fucking moon.
Instead, I’m distracted, even as the good news keeps rolling in. Lena keeps invading my brain, making it damnably hard to think straight.
“I appreciate all your hard work at Finsted Farms,” I tell her. “I’ll have your samples sent to the nutrition lab ASAP to start testing.”
“You’re welcome, Brady. I really think we’ve got it this time.”
“Me too.” I send the email she’s already forwarded to me along to the lab, and as another of our investors asks a few more questions for Wendy, I check my phone again.