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)
“What are you talking about? Molly did no such thing.”
I scoff. “You can’t possibly be this confident in your defense of her when she snorted cocaine off the chest of her boyfriend after letting him fuck her ten different ways. Can you?”
Archer’s expression hardens like his white-knuckled fists. “You took that video.”
“I took the video. And I used your money to ensure it made it to everyone in her contacts.” I step closer to him. “And for five full seconds, I felt like I had avenged Steven’s death.” I glance over my shoulder at his headstone. “But he’s still dead, and Molly’s in Paris.”
Archer looks behind him at his security detail. “Let’s go, Francesca.”
“Who told you my name?”
“Who told you Molly’s in Paris?”
We have a stare-off, and I cross my arms, standing my ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He laughs. I’ve never heard a more sinister sound. “You don’t have a choice. Tell me … have you been fucking Jude Day while stroking my dick on the side?”
Hearing him say “Jude Day” zaps the air from my lungs. Had he punched me in the face, I wouldn’t feel more speechless.
“My beautiful girl, are you okay? You’ve lost every ounce of color in your face.” He steps forward, reaching for my cheek.
I whip my head back.
With a smile more ominous than the distant clouds, Archer tucks his hands into his pockets. “Looks like we’re about to find out how you adapt to losing control.” He shrugs a shoulder. “You might be surprised how much you like it.” His mouth twists. “In fact, I think someone as fucked-up as you— someone who gets off on revenge—might find this thrilling.”
This?
Archer jerks his head toward me, and two of his men close in on us. I retreat until I bump into John’s headstone and nearly trip. Then I sprint toward my car but only get a few feet.
“No!” I shriek when both men grab my arms. My next breath catches in my throat, suffocating me behind the calloused hand, silencing my screams. They drag me to the SUV.
As I try to kick and wriggle out of their hold, I catch a glimpse of Archer’s face getting into the other SUV. He’s grinning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
JACKSON
Jackson returns to the motel to get Slade. Since he’s here against Jackson’s wishes, he will use him to get to Archer. Then he will make him get the hell out of Kansas before Jackson breaks Archer’s neck. But he won’t do that before he makes him pay for touching Frankie.
“Gotta hand it to you.” Slade shakes his head, having made himself at home on the bed, ankles crossed, boots on, TV muted. “You’ve learned to prioritize rather well.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jackson takes a piss in the toilet.
“Risking it all for Livy, consequences be damned.”
Jackson zips his jeans. “I’ve always risked everything for her.”
“Is this the first time you’ve risked another innocent life for her?”
Jackson sighs, leaning his shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re far from innocent.”
“I’m talking about Frankie.”
Jackson shakes his head. “I sent her home. Archer dies tonight.”
Slade rolls his lips together, head shaking. “I GPS-chipped her vehicle. She stopped at the cemetery but was nowhere to be found when I drove by. Any guess as to where she is now? I have a guess.”
Jackson doesn’t respond right away. All he sees is red, but he’s unsure if it’s because Frankie lied to him about going home or at Archer for consuming so much of Jackson’s life and touching the woman he … loves.
He lifts the mattress, forcing Slade to move. Inside the hollowed box springs is an arsenal.
“What’s the plan?” Slade asks, selecting two semi-automatic guns and several grenades.
“Put that shit down. I plan to end Sanford, and you’re going home to care for my daughter.”
Slade chuckles, stealing more weaponry. “I’m not allowed to let you go on a suicide mission.”
“What makes you think I’m dying?”
“You have no plan. You’re outnumbered. And you have to extract a hostage before you can take Sanford out. Oh … and you’re just old.”
“Fuck you.” Jackson fastens his tactical vest. “I don’t have a vest for you, so you can’t go.”
Slade heads toward the door. “Do you think I came without my own gear?” He opens the door.
“Then why are you stealing my shit?” Jackson hikes several guns onto his shoulder, along with a range bag of extra ammunition.
“Because I’ll need to be more heavily armed than you once you get caught.”
He follows him out the door. “What makes you think I’m getting caught?”
Slade shakes his head while trekking to his vehicle. “Again … you have no plan. You’re outnumbered. And you have to extract a hostage before you can take Sanford out. And you’re just old.”
“I will find Livy a nice Christian guy who worships her, second only to God. He’ll have a boring job that pays well and a healthy fear of her father. She’ll grieve you for a while, but she’s done that before, so she’ll know the routine.” Jackson slams his trunk.