Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Please say Jack didn’t hear me. Or please strip my words from his memory. PLEASE!
“Frankie,” he whispers, out of breath. Keeping me pinned to the car, his hands find my face again. “Frankie … Frankie … Frankie …” He showers my face with kisses and gently rubs his face against mine.
It’s affectionate, intimate, and a little heartbreaking because I feel him clinging to this moment as much as I am.
My hands cover his when his forehead comes to rest against mine. “I’m afraid one day soon you won’t kiss me good night.”
He lifts his head, a sad expression stealing his handsome face while he nods gently. “Me too.”
I don’t cry, but I want to. I need to. My body needs to release these emotions to regain some semblance of control, but not now. Not in front of him.
On the way back to the motel, Jack reaches for my hand without taking his eyes off the road. When he squeezes it, my heart constricts.
I don’t say anything when we get to the motel room. Instead, I head straight for the shower, locking the bathroom door behind me. And I hope the water and loud fan drown out my gentle sobs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
JACKSON
Love is a fickle emotion, especially choosing to love someone who is not family. It’s the kind of love that feels like a real choice.
Jackson didn’t miss Frankie’s words.
I love you.
He remembers falling in love with Ryn against all better judgment. And when she died—when he spent days at her grave, sleeping on her grave—he swore he’d never let his heart fall like that again. He had his sister and his daughter. They were all his heart could take. Ryn’s death didn’t just break his heart; it killed a part of it. A spot that would never come alive for anyone else.
Whatever he feels for Frankie can’t be love. Even if it’s familiar, like the emotions he felt when he met his wife, it can’t be. At best, it’s an imposter kind of love.
A really good imposter.
It’s awakened his hunger for normalcy again. It’s awakened his desire for the kind of intimacy that takes over like a storm raging out of control.
He turns the handle to the bathroom, but it’s locked. As he opens his mouth to say something, two hard knocks are at the motel room door. Jack retrieves his gun and peeks out the window from the curtain, but he can only see someone’s shoulder and part of their leg—dressed in all black.
Opening the door slowly, he aims the barrel of his gun through the crack first.
“Nice place ya got here,” the irritatingly familiar voice says.
Jackson opens the door but keeps his gun pointed at the man. “What the fuck are you doing here? And where is my daughter?”
Slade Wylder, the asshole who stole his daughter, crosses his arms.
“It would appear I’m here to dig your old ass out of this mess. And my wife is in good hands.”
Jessica. The only person trustworthy enough to watch Jackson’s daughter is his sister.
“You can put down your gun.”
Jackson shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good.”
Slade scratches his scruffy jaw. “She’s pregnant.” He grins with pride.
Fucker.
“Yeah. I heard you stuck your dick in my daughter again. I might need to remove it to feel better about the world again.”
“Speaking of dicks. I heard someone has willingly chosen to fondle your gray balls. Where is she? I can’t wait to meet her. How’s your memory? Do you remember to take your pill so you can have a nice four-hour erection?” He brushes past Jackson, ignoring the gun pointed at his head. “Does she know you’re a grandpa?” Slade turns his head, eyes narrowed while hearing the shower and fan. “She’s here? You’ve taken her hostage?”
Jackson shuts the door and holsters his gun.
Slade picks up the prairie dress Frankie discarded on the bed before entering the bathroom. His mouth bends into a smirk, and Jackson wants to wipe it from his face with a firm fist.
“Sexy,” Slade says, tossing the dress back onto the bed.
“Go home.”
“Can’t.” Slade inspects the rest of the room before sitting on the end of the bed, hands folded between his spread legs. “Jess said to let her know when they can leave.”
They.
Jess and Livy expect this to end so she and Slade can resume a normal life, out of hiding, with real jobs. Kids in school. Barbecues with neighbors.
Jackson wants that too. It’s what he’s always wanted. It’s the reason he’s gone so long without seeing his family. But now that he’s at the end, finishing the job feels impossible. And the last thing he needs is Livy’s husband losing his life. She would never forgive him.
“I’ve got it handled.”
“You’re staying in a motel that probably has bedbugs and cockroaches. You look tired. The kind of tired that someone looks before they’re lowered into the grave.” He blows out a long breath. “I promised Livy I’d handle this.”