Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I need to know she’s okay.”
Cutter.
“You need to know. Knowing is for your own peace of mind. It has nothing to do with what she needs.” I love her.
“Rogue.” Her name comes out strained, desperate.
“No. I don’t usually get involved, but everything that’s happened to her always leads back to you. She’s black and blue, her hands are shredded, her heart is in pieces, and you’re the reason every fucking time.”
“I know. I fucking know that, and I’m sorry.” He sounds broken.
“Are you?” She glares at him, folding her arms over her chest.
“Rogue, it’s okay. Let him in,” I croak out, pushing myself up on the bed to rest on the pillows in a half sitting-up position.
She turns her gaze to mine and closes her eyes, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Kit, you need to rest.”
“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I assure her.
“Fine.” She pushes the door farther open, allowing him inside. “But I’m warning you…” she jabs a finger into Cutter’s ribcage as he attempts to pass by her, “if you do anything else to fuck with her, I’ll reopen the wound I stitched shut for you.”
“That’s fair,” he says, dipping his head like a scorned child.
“None of this is fair. Just figure your fucking life out and do the right thing for once.”
With that, she pins me once more with a disappointed look, then she’s gone and Cutter swallows all the air from the room. “I’m so sorry, Kit.” His body deflates like a popped balloon, releasing all his energy out in a single exhale.
“For what?”
“Everything.” He brushes his hand through his blond locks and sits on the end of the bed near my feet, facing the goldfish. “I don’t know how we ended up here.” He looks over his shoulder at me then turns away, like it’s too painful to see me like this.
“Your wife, for one.” I scoff, then immediately regret bringing her up. I don’t want to be bitter anymore.
“The night you brought Nicolas here, I found him in the game room trying to rape Claire,” he says openly.
My heart pounds against my ribs. “What?” My mind trips. The wires try to connect and make sense of what he’s telling me. Nicolas was a bit grabby, but rape?
“All I could think was that could have been you in there with him. His hands on you.” There’s so much anger and pain in his voice, a manifestation of fear.
“He didn’t do anything to me,” I assure him.
“But he could have. The little prick started hurling pool balls at me and running his mouth. He was an entitled asshole, but I didn’t mean to kill him.” Conviction shines in his blues as they find mine before turning back to the fish.
“What happened?” I implore.
Standing, he taps the side of the fish tank with his finger, creases drawing down his brow. “I threw a ball back at him, and it killed him. Lights out.”
“Oh my god.”
“It was so fucked, and Claire knew who the Carnells were and witnessed me killing the fucking kid.” His voice raises, the veins in his arms straining against his skin.
“For her. You killed him for her. He would have raped her. You saved her,” I say, demanding he recognizes that.
“I know.” He clenches his teeth.
“Wait—” My brain freezes, and ice floods my limbs. “What are you saying? Did you take her to bed to keep her quiet?” No way. She wouldn’t do that…
He flinches like I struck him, his head shaking vehemently. “What? No.”
“Then what are you saying?” I’m too high on Diamond’s supply to make sense of everything.
“That it was a shit show and needed to be kept quiet. We had to retrace your steps that night and erase as much as we could and keep a truth circle to protect the secret.”
My body tenses. “No one knew I was with Nicolas that night. I never use my name at card games, and we came straight here.” My thoughts flicker through my mind, trying to remember that night. “Wait—I got my tattoo before coming back here.”
He stares at me, nodding and speaking without words.
Wynona.
“Her boyfriend killed her then himself,” I state, swallowing the lump growing in the back of my throat like a fungus-filled rock. I was devasted when I read about her murder in the paper.
Cutter’s eyes remain on mine, telling me everything his words won’t.
No. “You didn’t. That wasn’t a cover-up,” I choke out.
“It was her goldfish I brought you.”
No. No. Fucking shut up.
I push the blanket from my legs and my feet thud to the floor as acid races up my throat. Running to the bathroom, I reach the toilet just in time to spill my guts. Cramps clench my stomach muscles and squeeze across my ribs, sending spasms into my back.
Wynona…oh my god, I’m so sorry.
“Kit.” Cutter’s voice fills my head like a drill powering through my skull.