Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
"And you were intimate with him less than twenty-four hours after the phone number exchange," Bandera says.
"If you know everything, then why am I sitting here being grilled about it?" I ask, my eyes once again sweeping over every man in the room except Robert. "You just want more details? Want me to tell you that he was a selfish lover? That he didn't make me come? That his brother did more with his fingers last night than Henry did with his entire body? Slut shaming, is that what this is? Because I have better things to do with my life."
"I want to know when you really met Henry Stewart and what the real plans were for infiltrating Cerberus," Whiskey says, his voice sinister and full of warning.
His mood doesn't block the confusion that hits me right in the chest.
"What?"
"I didn't stutter," Whiskey says. "Why are you here?"
"I was brought here!" I yell, my emotions taking over. "I didn't ask for this. I said I wanted to go home, but I was urged to stay. Don't turn this shit around on me."
"You're a plant. Someone Henry put here for a reason, and we want to know what it is," Bandera says, his voice so even it scares me.
I rub at the cold chills racing up my arms, but it does nothing to make them go away.
"I'm not," I argue. "A plant? Are all of you insane? In what world? This isn't a fucking Jason Bourne movie or something."
Not one man at the table looks as if they believe me. Twisted still looks uncomfortable as hell, but he's no closer to speaking up in my defense than Robert is.
"Explain the text messages," Whiskey demands.
"You have access to them," I remind him. "I'm sure you all got a good look at the pictures I sent."
"I want to know about the deleted ones," Bandera says.
"What? I didn't delete text messages."
"Really?" Whiskey says. "Explain these then."
The massive television mounted on the wall comes to life, image after image of a text message exchange flashing on the screen.
My brows draw closer and closer together as I read them, not a single one familiar.
It spells out a plan to ruin Robert's life, to make him fall in love with me, only to turn around and spend the rest of my life with Henry.
Tears fill my eyes as I read, my head shaking of its own volition.
"I can deny I sent those texts," I manage without sobbing. "But I doubt any of you would believe me. I'd like to go home now."
I stand from the table and walk out the door.
Not a single person tries to stop me.
Chapter 30
Rooster
Heathen is the first to stand from the table and follow Morgan from the room.
Hanging my head, I fight the utter exhaustion threatening to take over. I feel it in every cell in my body, and at this moment, I don't know how I'll even make it up the stairs to my bed.
I spent half an hour staring at those text messages when I discovered them. I had gone through cell phone records, comparing what was on her phone to her service provider's data and researching things that didn't match. That's how I discovered them.
I stared at them for hours before trying to reverse-engineer them to make sure they were real. I couldn't discredit them, and even after another hour, I hadn't told anyone I'd found them. I didn't want to believe that they were true, that she had manipulated me from the very beginning, but as the shock wore off, the anger began to set in.
Prior interactions with Henry made me sad because I just wanted my twin to love me as much as I always loved him, but this time around, I was affected by someone more. Knowing she could've been exactly what I'd discovered her to be hurt me more than Henry's role in this, and that's on me. I wanted so badly to look past the red flags and ignore the chance that she was here to deceive me.
I feel like such a fool, and when I pull my head out of my hands and look up, I spot Twisted standing on the other side of the room glaring at me.
"What?" I snap, anger from the entire situation bubbling to the surface, making it very hard to control my emotions.
"You really believe that shit?" he asks, pointing to the television even though I've already taken down the messages I'd discovered.
"You really think I'd let that shit play out the way it did if I hadn't spent hours researching and trying to prove that they were fake?" I growl.
"I made her come here. She would've stayed in her house. She didn't want to leave," he argues.
"And with as easily as she manipulated me, you don't think she was putting on an act?"