Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
The cold was cutting right through me. Giving me one last hard look, Pierce firmly gripped my neck and marched me across the rain-soaked grass of the clearing to the trail that cut through the forest.
We were barely under the trees when a peal of thunder shook the ground, punctuating every step.
He bent low and swept me into his arms.
I objected, but a hard glare from his pale gray eyes quelled any rebellion in me.
"Put your head on my shoulder," he murmured against my forehead.
My head fell against the crook of his neck, my cheek pressed to the wet hollow above his collarbone.
The protective canopy of the forest evergreen trees shielded us from the worst of the rain. The thick branches of pines, red cedars, and magnolias broke the downpour into a steady drip that muffled the storm. We were surrounded by the earthy scent of damp moss and decaying wildflowers.
The forest closed behind us. Every few steps, a branch groaned under the weight of the rain, and the canopy shifted, spilling cold water down the back of my neck. I flinched, and Pierce's arms tightened. He didn't speak. Neither did I. There was only the crunch of wet ground under his boots and the low, constant breathing between us.
No one would come looking for me out here. No one ever had. That was the particular cruelty of being an orphan. You could vanish from the world and the world just kept turning.
No, that wasn’t true. I had friends. People who cared about me. I wasn’t truly alone. Hailey would care. Eventually she would learn about what happened at the courthouse and that I wasn’t safely behind bars and come looking for me.
But for now I was alone with him. In a forest. In a storm. Being carried toward a house I'd never seen by a man who had destroyed my life and then saved it in the same breath.
It would have been so easy to close my eyes and pretend he was something other than the most dangerous man I'd ever known.
Every detective story I'd ever shelved, every criminal profile I'd ever devoured in my 221B nook, had taught me to recognize when I was being played.
Moriarty never looked like a monster.
He looked like a gentleman carrying you out of the rain.
CHAPTER 29
HAILEY
Igripped the chair back so hard my knuckles turned white.
My gaze scanned the room, already knowing the only door was behind Greyson.
This kind of stuff only happened to women in Lifetime movies or the heroines of romance books. It didn’t happen in modern-day Virginia, for fuck’s sake!
A person couldn’t just kidnap another person in broad daylight, off the courthouse steps no less, and get away with it. Greyson didn’t get a second set of laws to follow just because he had money and audacity.
Right?
All those stupid true crime marathons I used to devour alongside a bowl of popcorn on Saturday nights with Madison flashed before my eyes. Each one damning what I just said. Yup. It turned out a person could actually kidnap someone and totally get away with it.
Especially if that person was an uber-rich, well-connected, incredibly handsome, arrogant asshole. He could probably walk into a courtroom covered in my blood and still have that handsome smirk on his face when he walked out a free man.
Greyson chuckled as he took another step toward me. “At least you called me handsome.”
My eyes widened. Fuck. Did he just read my mind?
Was I going crazy or had I just said all that out loud?
Greyson’s lips curled up at the corner. “Yes, you said all of that out loud, though I’d like to think I can read your mind. You have very expressive eyes that tell me all the dirty things going on in that pretty little head of yours.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth.
What was the record for Stockholm syndrome? How long did that usually take to kick in?
I raised a placating hand. “This is getting out of control. There is no reason to take it any further. Just let me walk out of here.”
“I can’t,” he said with an infuriatingly casual shrug.
I stomped my foot as if I were a toddler having a tantrum over a piece of candy. “Why not?”
Greyson shrugged. “I have my reasons.”
“Well, what are they? What reasons could you possibly have for keeping me here?”
“My reasons are varied, and they are my own.”
“That’s not good enough.” I stomped my foot again, not caring that I was being childish.
“It will have to be.”
Knowing I was getting nowhere with him, I snatched an expensive-looking crystal vase off a nearby table. Dumping the flowers and water out onto the Persian carpet, I held it high. “I’ll break it,” I warned.
Greyson sat down on a nearby upholstered chair, close to the fire. Leaning back, he crossed his ankles out in front of him and rested his chin on his palm. “That would be a shame. I happen to like that vase…but if you must.”