Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 112382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
That was easier said than done since I now feel even more responsible for her. When I first sent the others to bring her in, it was to please my wife and because I was a bit intrigued by what she’d been up to. Now she’s one of us; she’s the woman who’s going to bring closure to my wife for the most horrific thing to ever happen in her life.
“Tell them what they want to know, Roxana, you can trust them.” Jason looked at me after saying this, and I knew that for him, that was a huge step. My nod acknowledged that I understood what had just happened between us. That he’d just, in essence, accepted his place here. Good, maybe now Thorpe will relax and get on board one hundred percent.
Lyon stepped through the door next, and I expected the room to fill up. “Wait, all of you were out there listening?”
“No, where’s my kid?” Shit, I forgot about the girls. No doubt, they noticed me leave and had gone back to the lab. Lyon wouldn’t go there if his life depended on it since he tends to steer clear of any place where his dad and daughter get together to work.
“Uh,” Shit, if he finds out what she’s up to and that I facilitated it, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“The girls are fine, Colton we have a situation here right now. Can you call Kat for me? I think I need my girls.” Cierra jumped in, and I looked at her suspiciously. Why the heck would she be covering for Catalina? Unless…
“You okay, Cierra?” Lyon looked from her to Roxana and back.
“Yes, I’m fine, just call the girls in for me.” He left to go do her bidding, and I was left wondering just what the hell my wife knew about what Catalina has been up to. I think I’m being played.
Roxy
I wasn’t sure that I wanted to say. If I told her where her family’s killer was, then I’d be telling her where I’d escaped from, then she’d know, wouldn’t she? Then again, they already knew about the murders. But that was on me; what about the others still stuck there? How can I trust any organization to help when none had thus far?
As soon as I escaped, I’d tried making anonymous calls to get help, but nothing ever came of it. I knew that the people who’d held me captive, the whole neighborhood, in fact, was very influential, their homes alone were worth millions, and most of the men and a few of the women held pretty high powered positions.
On the outside, these people were seen as the most straight-laced church every Sunday, swing sets in the backyard, all American homegrown good ole boys, and cookie-baking wives. Behind closed doors they’re the very things nightmares are made of; every child’s nightmare anyway.
There was still a lot I had left to do; what if I screw up by telling them where I’d come from? My heart felt sick as I realized I was at some sort of crossroads. Honestly, I hadn’t thought this far ahead, which is stupid now that I think about it. It would’ve been my first question had I been the one in her shoes.
Jason squeezed me where he was now hugging me around my shoulders, and for some reason, I wanted more than anything to trust him. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and already I find myself wanting to accept that he was genuine, something that scares me more than a little bit. I haven’t trusted anyone anywhere for a long-long time. Even uncle Mike has been kept at arm’s length since my escape, but that’s another story.
The look in Jason’s eyes was so comforting that I wanted to believe, needed to. For the first time in five years, I realized that I was tired. It felt as if I’d been going on autopilot this whole time, and had they not interrupted me; I’d still be going strong. But now I need to reset and change my plans since they now knew some of what I’d done.
The fact that they knew and I wasn’t in handcuffs went a long way to making me feel a little bit more at ease, and then Lyon returned with what looked like all the women who’d been sitting around the breakfast table. “Cierra, are you okay? What’s going on? What about you Roxy, you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell, did you?”
One of the beauties came forward, but I didn’t know who she was since I hadn’t stuck around long enough to learn anyone’s name. “I’m Katarina, Kat for short, his wife?” She pointed over her shoulder at Lyon, and for some reason, I wanted to laugh at the way she did it. They fit; her and him. And if there were any doubts as to whose wife she was, his name tattooed on her nape when she looked back at him with a grin would’ve been a dead giveaway.