Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“We’re almost there,” I tell her.
She sits up, running a hand through sleep-tousled hair. “It’s bigger than I expected.”
“You’ve never been to Billings?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve barely left Black Hollow Creek. Dad took me to Helena once for a church conference, but that’s it.”
The admission twists something in my chest. Another reminder of how sheltered she was. How utterly unprepared for the life I’ve dragged her into.
The Bishop apartment sits in a renovated warehouse near the river, industrial chic that Sawyer picked out years ago when our business interests expanded beyond Black Hollow Creek. I pull into the secure underground parking and cut the engine.
“Home sweet home. For the night, at least.”
Saint follows me to the private elevator, and I punch in the code, and the doors slide open silently.
The apartment is exactly as I remember it, with exposed brick walls, polished concrete floors, and sleek furniture in blacks and grays. The floor-to-ceiling windows face the river, flooding the space with natural light.
“This is…” Saint’s eyes are wide as she takes in the space. “Not what I expected.”
“What did you expect? Cattle skulls and branding irons?” The joke falls flat, and I wince at my own poor choice of words. Branding is still too raw, too fresh.
“Something less modern, I guess.” She moves to the window, looking out at the view. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s yours for the day,” I tell her, setting down my own bag. “I have a meeting this afternoon. Business stuff. You stay here, relax, explore the apartment. I’ll be back.”
Her shoulders tense slightly. “You’re leaving me here alone?”
“You’ll be safe. No one knows we’re here.” I step closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body but not touching. “The building has security. The elevator requires a code. There’s food in the fridge, books on the shelves, TV, whatever you want.”
She turns to face me, eyes searching mine. “What’s this meeting about, Calder?”
Too perceptive for her own good, my wife. “Just business,” I repeat. “Supply contracts for the ranch.”
“You’re lying.” She says it without heat, just a simple statement of fact. “But I guess I should be used to that by now.”
The words hit harder than they should. “I’ll be back shortly. We can go out for dinner. Somewhere nice.”
I shower and change quickly, aware of the time ticking down to my meeting. When I emerge, Saint is curled up on the leather couch with one of Sawyer’s books open in her lap.
“Be careful.” The words seem to surprise her as much as they do me.
I nod, unsure how to respond to the unexpected concern. Then I’m out the door, locking it behind me, heading to meet the woman who might be our salvation or our damnation.
Agent Reese sits at a back table in a coffee shop three blocks from the apartment, dark hair short and tousled, expression unreadable behind oversized sunglasses. She doesn’t stand when I approach, just gestures to the empty chair across from her.
“Thanks for making the trip,” she says as I sit.
“Sure, but we need to make this fast. My wife is waiting.”
She removes her sunglasses, revealing sharp eyes that miss nothing. “You brought her with you?”
It grates, her asking me questions, the years of Bishop loyalty literally burned into me. “Yes.”
“That complicates things.”
“How? She doesn’t know anything, and she’s back in the apartment.” I keep my voice low, even though the café is noisy enough to cover our conversation. “I needed to get her away from the ranch for a bit. She’s been through a lot.”
“And the ceremony is still scheduled for the upcoming Friday night. Full moon.”
“Yes,” I grit out.
“We’re setting up surveillance around the barn. Audio and visual. We’ll have teams positioned at the property boundaries. We just have to be careful and slow about it with so many employees.”
“No one enters until I give the signal, right? That was our agreement.”
Reese’s mouth tightens. “I agreed, didn’t I? We’re putting a lot of faith in you, Calder.”
“And I’m putting my life in your hands. My wife’s life.” The word still feels strange on my tongue.
“What happens afterward? When this is over?”
“You’ve been granted immunity in exchange for your cooperation. As discussed.”
“And Saint?”
Reese’s eyes soften slightly. “She’s a victim, Calder. Not a perpetrator. She’ll be free to go wherever she wants once Roman is in custody.”
The thought hits harder than it should. Saint, free. Able to walk away from me, from the Bishop name, from everything I’ve dragged her into. As much as I want her safe and away from my darkness, I can’t let her go. I won’t. Once she’s safe, and the dust has settled I’ll have to give her a reason to stay. To choose me. Despite it all.
The agent and I leave separately, her departing before me and then me a few minutes after. When I return to the apartment, Saint is standing at the stove, stirring something that smells like heaven. She’s changed into leggings and one of my shirts, her honey hair twisted into a messy knot at the nape of her neck.