Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“Would you like me to get you a bib?” he returned with a smirk.
Caleb choked down a laugh. At the same time, he wanted to hightail it out of here. This was too damn surreal. The bickering siblings. The father looking on in gentle amusement. The homemade burger patties and bright-pink petunias and napkins with little dancing goats on them.
This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t anyone’s life, was it? Lord, it was bad enough that he’d slept with Marley under false pretenses, but hanging out with her family? A wave of discomfort crested in his stomach, especially when Marley offered a snarky comment to her brother, and Sam Sr. grinned at Caleb. Crap. Marley’s dad was warming up to him. Heck, so was her brother. After an initial bout of curt sentences and suspicious looks, the two men were now beginning to drop their guard.
As lunch progressed, Sam Sr. spoke to Caleb about the east coast, where he’d apparently lived for a few years following college. And the younger Sam spoke at length about their construction business. From the sound of it, the business wasn’t booming, but it paid the mortgage, and both Kincaid men obviously enjoyed the work.
They perked up when Caleb mentioned he’d worked construction in the past, and he found himself enjoying talking to them about it. His fake writing career was a topic he avoided, but since construction was something he’d actually done before the DEA, he felt comfortable discussing it, and Marley’s family seemed to warm up to him even more.
By the time the food was gone and the table was cleared, Caleb’s chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. These people were…nice. They cared about each other. They respected each other. It was so unlike most of the families he’d been around growing up. The abusive foster fathers, the alcoholic mothers, the dilapidated houses, soiled sheets and empty refrigerators.
“You okay?” Marley murmured, flashing a tentative smile in his direction.
Next to her, Sam Sr. and his son were still talking about the renovation job they were currently working on.
Caleb lowered his voice. “I’m fine. I just spaced out for a second.” Fortunately, his cell began to vibrate in his pocket before she could press him. “Excuse me for a second,” he said, barely able to hide his relief as he pulled out the phone.
He left the table and walked a few feet away, standing near the barbecue as he checked his phone. Nobody was calling, but a series of text messages were coming through, all from AJ.
* * *
Tech guys at SDPD tracked the email to an IP addy downtown. Beachside Internet Café. Grier used free email account, registered with fake name.
The next message beeped in.
* * *
Staff couldn’t ID Grier from pic. Barista remembers guy in baseball cap, sunglasses, looked shady, but she didn’t see his face.
A final text popped up.
* * *
Give me a couple of hours before you bring her home. Wiring got screwed up. Two monitors are down. Gotta fix them.
He put away the cell, experiencing only a fleeting spark of disappointment. He’d known Grier’s message would be a dead end. The man was too smart to send an email from his personal account, or to register for a new one under his real name.
Caleb glanced at Marley. She was amused by something her brother had said, her blond hair bouncing over her slender shoulders as her body vibrated with laughter. She looked unbelievably beautiful in her old denim shorts and thin red tank top. Her face was shining, her plump lips curved with delight as another burst of laughter rolled out of her chest.
He suddenly pictured how she’d look when she found out the truth about who he was. The shine in her eyes would fade to a dull matte. Those lips would tighten with fury. Her joy would fizzle like a candle in the rain.
Caleb bent his head and pretended to text something on his phone, his blood pressure rising. He’d screwed up, given in to temptation and now he had to live with the knowledge that he’d deceived a woman he was really starting to care about.
Marley would never forgive him for lying to her.
He was also pretty certain that he’d never be able to forgive himself.
* * *
GODDAMN ADULTEROUS BITCH.
Patrick could barely contain the streaks of fury shooting through his body like hot bolts of lightning. He’d been standing by the window for the past hour, still stunned by what he’d seen. The cop, strolling out of Marley’s house at ten o’clock in the morning. And then the two of them getting into the cop’s shiny Range Rover an hour later, going off to who knew where.
Patrick had watched Mr. DEA arrive on Marley’s porch the evening before, and all night he’d paced the bedroom, his anger building, growing, until his gut was knotted with wrath.