Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Regardless, the reverend waved his hands on the screen and raved about this awesome God. But something stuck out for me that night. He’d said something that I never heard of.
“God doesn’t want you to walk to him with joy. He wants you to crawl, and don’t we all crawl to him sometimes?”
The audience in front of him clapped and yelled yes in response.
“Crawl to Christ!” He pointed to the screen. “Crawl to Him, and He will save you.”
I shut my eyes.
Click.
Benny continued to pull that trigger.
And in my mind, I got on the ground and began to crawl to the only thing in this world that could probably save us all.
In that moment, I crawled to God.
Please welcome and watch over my brother. God, please, don’t let that be the last time I see him. Will I see him after this life? God, can you hear me? Will I see him again?! Is there something after death?
God, why did you take him from me?
Chapter 21
Chase
Would Jasmine and family come to the tour tonight? Had Benny heard the phone conversation?
With that sick man, I had to prepare for everything. I bought up all the Jack the Ripper tour companies in London, but I was betting on one particular company to lure Benny’s dark side. It was Breaton Tours, the most high-end and learned of them all.
My men researched and discovered that several tours were more imitators. They pointed to any discarded street corner and claimed that Ripper had murdered there. Only one had come highly recommended by all major news outlets in the US. Everyone claimed to be an expert on the psycho killer. Dr. Breaton had written several books on the madman and his unsolved mysteries. The world proclaimed the doctor as the leading authority on Jack the Ripper.
And Benny owned every last one of Dr. Breaton’s books.
If I was Benny, I would take the Dr. Breaton tour.
Earlier this morning, I’d checked Sophia, Sherman, my guards, and I into the Royal Suite at the Mandarin Oriental.
Sophia had warmed to her armed guards, being that she had no other choice. That being said, I was no jail keeper. Her prison would be luxury and paradise, just in case I’d gotten it all wrong about her. Once Sophia met the suite’s butler and stood out on the balcony that overlooked Hyde Park, she relaxed and accepted her temporary prison. It there was one thing I’d understood from Benny’s journals, it was that Sophia needed to feel like a queen in every sense of the word.
The butler took her drink order and then handed her a wooden box with an angel carved on the top. She opened it and eyed me suspiciously. “Are these mine?”
“Yes,” the butler answered before me. “They come with the suite.”
She pulled out gold binoculars. “O-kay.”
The suite also came with original artwork from the local gallery of my choice, I let Sophia pick the place and the art pieces. They delivered it all within the hour, and she giggled as she led the men around and pointed to each wall where a painting should hang.
That’s right. Keep your mind busy with spending my money.
Our butler kept his distance from Sherman, who remained at the dining table the whole time, monitoring us all and never saying anything. He was just so goddamn big, tall, and scary. The scars and dead eyes didn’t help either. He refused eat, get up, and check out his room. I made sure several guards stayed with him.
No wonder Jasmine remained a virgin for so long. No one would be stupid enough to date his sister, while he’s lurking around.
The butler handed Sophia the pillow menu and she almost passed out. It was ten pages with pictures and prices of every pillow the hotel provided for their customer’s comfort.
“This is crazy.” She brought it over to Sherman and set it on the table. “Look. They have every pillow you can think of on this damned menu—ergonomic to orthopedic, plume to ... viscoelastic. I have no idea what the last one is, but I’m ordering it.”
The butler took her order and rushed away to put them on her bed.
Sophia faced me. “How much do you have to pay to stay here?”
“I’m not sure. It’s around four or five thousand.”
“For the week?” She tilted her head to the side.
“No, for the night.”
Sophia clapped her hands. “Damn. Now that’s money.”
I gave her the master bedroom. 18th century Chinese paintings hung on the wall. Crystal lights framed the massive vanity area to the right. On the left, stood a walk-in wardrobe closet. The bathroom had been done in cream marble. A thousand thread count linen covered the king-sized bed.
Do you like your beautiful jail, Sophia?
For now, she’d have to obey my security or get a bullet in her head, but I would keep her as comfortable as possible. I wasn’t Benny. I didn’t have time for torture or mind games, all I yearned for was Jasmine within my arms.