Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
I did it all for her.
She needs structure and guardrails. She needs protection from our enemies. She needs protection from me.
Now I’m back in Cali because no matter how much I trusted Gavin to be her babysitter, trust is always broken.
I shift my weight, tapping impatiently on the phone screen, cycling through dozens of recorded camera feeds.
Inside the mechanic shop, Dove wipes her hands on a rag and walks to the corner of the garage where the only camera is mounted. She looks directly at the lens, flips off the camera, and mouths, Fuck you, Jag.
Real mature.
My good hand twitches to smack all that rebellious metal out of her pretty face. When it comes to her, my resentment battles with my infatuation. She doesn’t know the lengths I’ll go to keep her locked down.
The grunting from Gavin’s room crescendos and quickly fades into whispered conversations. They’ll be finished soon, basking in their fragile afterglow.
Weak.
Gavin’s indulgence makes him utterly useless.
I remain seated, slipping the phone into my pocket. If I want something done right, it always comes down to me. Dove is mine to watch, and Gavin was a temporary solution.
The bedroom door opens, spilling soft light and whispered laughter into the hallway. Footsteps approach, and Gavin appears in the kitchen doorway, shirtless and flushed, his eyes widening when he spots me sitting in the dark.
“Send your hookup home,” I say for his ears only.
His face reddens because he knows he fucked up. After an awkward hesitation, he hurries back into the bedroom.
Murmurs float through the door, followed by rustling clothes and the shuffle of feet.
Moments later, Gavin reappears, ushering a man toward the front door. The stranger leaves without noticing me.
Gavin closes the door, lingering there a minute, visibly bracing himself before turning to face me again.
“I’m sorry,” he stammers, marching into the kitchen. “Let me explain.”
“You did the one thing I told you not to do.”
“I… I…”
“You told her about our arrangement.”
“Fuck, Jag. I tried. I did everything you said. But I missed you. You weren’t answering my calls. I haven’t spoken to you in months. Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you.”
“Were you in love with me while getting rammed ten minutes ago?”
“I know how it looks.” He winces. “It was just a little NSA fun. It meant nothing.”
“It’s been less than a day since your wedding to my sister was canceled.”
“She canceled it! I begged her to stay, but you know how she is. Impossible to control, emotionally withdrawn…” He throws a hand out, gesturing helplessly. “It’s like talking to a wall.”
Hard to argue. But more than that, she’s fiercely self-reliant, crazy smart, and possesses an unbending moral code.
“You fucked up,” I say calmly, rising to my full height. I step close enough to smell the sex on his body.
“I’ll make it up to you.” His lashes lower as he tentatively reaches out, trailing a finger down my chest.
He was a terrible fucking lay, tedious and quick to finish. Every encounter with him was a chore, one I’m happy never to repeat.
I already emptied his bank accounts and took back every penny I gave him. There’s just one thing left to do.
His gaze follows the path of his finger, down, down, down to my zipper. Then he gasps. “What happened to your hand?”
“Smashed a mirror.”
“I’m sorry. I know you’re angry.”
“My broken wrist has fuck all to do with you.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, let me take your mind off it.” He lowers to his knees and rubs the front of my pants.
As if he has any chance in hell of charming the cobra. The only thing that will make me hard right now is his last breath.
With my injured wrist cradled against my chest, I reach into my coat pocket and remove a thin piano wire fixed between two short wooden dowels.
Gavin’s focus is so transfixed on freeing my cock, he doesn’t track the movement.
In a fluid motion, I sweep behind him, loop the wire around his throat, and pull.
His eyes bulge, realizing too late the cold finality in mine.
He jerks and claws at the garrote, mouth gaping as the wire bites deep.
I anchor one dowel against the counter with my forearm and pull with my good hand, using leverage instead of strength.
His heels scrape the floor in a desperate, violent dance.
“Shhhh.” I rest my brow against his as life drains from his eyes.
His body convulses and fights for an eternity before finally falling limp. I hold for ten seconds more.
Silence.
I release the tension, pocket the wire, and carefully lower his body to the floor. No blood. No mess. No fingerprints. Just clean, silent revenge.
Standing over his lifeless form, I feel nothing.
Without another glance, I slip out the back door and disappear into the night. I already took care of the cameras.
I was never here.
Dove waits for me in Alaska, and once again, it’s my responsibility to keep her under lock and key.