Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
As they flitted around one another through the sitting room, his hands tackled her ribs, wrenching a laughing scream from her lungs. She pivoted away from him and collided with the hard, narrowed stare of Mr. Carter.
He stood in the kitchen doorway, his distaste evident in the pressed line of his lips. “This was in the mailbox.” He handed her a confidential envelope, addressed to Liv Reed in typed font. No postage stamp. No return address. Her stomach tumbled.
Josh led her to his room and closed the door. His hard jawline sawed side-to-side. “I don’t think I can handle any more surprises.” He paced the small room, pivoting between the spartan furnishings. A twin bed with a handmade quilt. A dresser with a bottle of aftershave. Shelves lined the walls displaying years of football trophies. He stopped in front of her, crossed his arms, and waited.
Adrenaline flared through her veins, firing her brain to act. She sat on the bed, tore the seal, and slid out a single letter. The name, address, and phone number of an international bank in the Cayman Islands printed across the top. The body of the letter included three lines.
Liv Reed
Account number 00145481720
Balance $6,000,000
Chapter 46
A flush of dizziness swam through Liv’s head.
The mattress shifted. Josh sat beside her, his hand curling around her wrist, angling the paper. “Am I reading this right?”
“Hand me the phone.” Her voice trembled.
She called the toll-free number, confirmed the account, and disconnected.
He rose from the bed and resumed pacing. “Why would Mr. E put his money in your name?”
She stared at the letter, the words blurry. He’d put the house and everything else in her fake name. He and Van had been ghosts in the slave business. She was the face and the name connected to the entire operation. “So I could take the fall?” Her chest pinched. “But someone personally delivered this to your parents’ mailbox.”
His mouth slackened, voicing her assumption. “Van.”
Van. He’d spent seven years trying to break her, and it had only taken him a few minutes of near-death honesty to make amends. She’d forgiven him then. She didn’t need the money to mend things between them. “There were seven transactions, at least a million each. He probably kept a portion.” She sucked in a breath. “Regardless, I can’t accept it.”
He stared down at her, his fists on his hips. “Why the hell not?”
“Eight lives, including yours—” she ground her teeth, her voice rising “—were torn apart for this money.”
He crouched between her legs, tugged the letter from her fist, and set it on the bed. “Nine people, Liv. You’re one of us. And you know our lives are better for it.” He placed his palm beneath her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek. “My life is so much more damned meaningful. Because of you.”
Her head ached and her chest squeezed. She rubbed the middle of her forehead. What were her options? She couldn’t send the money back. She could donate it to charity. Or… “I can divide it among the eight of you.”
He searched her eyes, his hand lowering to tap his fingers on her thigh. “You’ll divide it between the nine of us, and I’ll give my portion to my parents.”
She smoothed a wayward lock of hair from his forehead, mesmerized by the iridescent glow of his eyes. He wouldn’t need his own money if she kept a portion of the account. Neither of them knew what the future held for them, but one thing was certain. They would be together. She wrinkled her nose to thwart the sudden burn of emotion. She had a future to look forward to. With him.
“Joshua?” Emily’s voice muffled through the walls. The door opened, and her gray eyes darted between them. “Son, I’m not comfortable with the door shut when there’s a girl in your room.”
Liv bit her lip. Good God, they treated him like a child.
He flattened his hands on her thighs and drew a deep breath. “Sorry to hear that, Mom. And the girl has a name.”
Emily raised her chin. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Anything else?” He squinted at her over his shoulder.
Her chest hitched. “Can I see you in the kitchen?”
“No. If you have something to say—”
The door hit the wall behind it with the force of her shove. She turned on her heels, her strides fading down the hall.
He bowed his head in her lap. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.”
Her fingers combed through his hair, massaging his scalp. “There’s going to be churchventions all over McLennan County praying for your soul tonight, Joshua Carter.” She touched his rock-hard jaw and raised his head. “Go talk to her.” She gave him her coldest Mistress glare.
A laugh barked from the back of his throat. He held up his hands. “All right.” He rose, smiling. “What’s a churchvention?”