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)
"Really?" he asks, his tone laced with humor. "All IT guys are freaks. Didn't you know that? Hands."
I blow out a breath, but in the end, I still give him what he's requesting, holding out my right arm first before giving him my left as well.
He ties them together before lifting them over my head and securing them. I test the hold, hating the idea that he has fully strapped me down to the bed, preventing me from touching him. It makes me wonder if he’s still holding some sort of grudge or if he still believes that I was planted in his life to ruin him.
"Robert," I whisper, wanting to make sure he knows that he's the only man for me. Angry or not, he's the only one I can see building a life with.
"Hmm?" he says, planting his fists beside my body so he can lean in closer.
His shirt billows out, and the flash of dark ink on his chest draws every single ounce of my attention, making my blood run cold.
I freeze under him, my chin immediately trembling with fear as I try to subtly test my restraints, hoping they give a little more this time than they did at first.
"I was wondering how long it was going to take before you realized," he says, and I can immediately hear the difference in his voice.
"Henry," I manage as tears flow from the corners of my eyes.
"Miss me, baby?" he asks, leaning down to kiss me.
I turn my head, his lips brushing over my tear-covered temple. Bile threatens to rush up my throat as sickness clings to every cell in my body.
"Please don't," I beg, but I don't know him enough to know if he'll even listen.
"I can do whatever I want to you, and there's nothing you can do about it," he says, but instead of touching me, he keeps his hands pressed to the mattress on either side of my body.
I'm a hundred percent vulnerable under him, and he's right. He could do anything. The most fucked-up thing in the world is that now that I know who he is, I hate myself for not realizing it was Henry.
This man is nothing like his brother.
And knowing that is terrifying because where Robert would never hurt me, I think Henry's only goal in life is to do just that.
Chapter 34
Rooster
Long before I started working for Cerberus, I knew that men working without a moral code are the most dangerous people walking the earth. They're the ones who would step on anyone to meet their own goals. Their egos wouldn't allow them to have compassion for anyone who stood in their way.
Henry has never conformed to any form of societal expectations. If he wants it, he's going to take it, and it doesn't matter who he has to plow through or run over to meet his end goal.
I know that his end goal isn't to win Morgan or have her in any way. His goal is and always has been to ruin my life. It creates a higher level of urgency to find Morgan because she's completely expendable in this game of his. Simply taking her and making me scramble to find her isn't good enough for Henry. If he wants to gut me, I can't help but think that he'll cross boundaries he hasn't crossed before and hurt her.
I don't know if that pain would be through physical acts of violence, but he has grown increasingly volatile over the last several years.
Imagining all the things he could do to her that could cause lasting trauma makes my skin fucking crawl.
"I'm still not sure that she isn't involved with him," Whiskey says, his eyes locked on his hands as he scratches at the cuticle on his right thumb.
I glare at the man wanting to tell him to get the fuck out, but I know I have to remain calm.
They were all presented with evidence that she was some sort of mole, not that there was anything for her to find. This was never about getting information. If she were a plant, which I adamantly believe now that she wasn't, she would've been put here to hurt me, just as the text messages said.
Wren has found proof that the texts were generated through a program Henry created, and he used the same program to communicate with Heathen from me before she left work.
"If she knew or were involved in any way, there would've been no need to pretend to be Rooster in the messages he sent to her at work," Bandera reminds him. "Morgan is in need of our help. She isn't part of Henry's plan."
"So we just sit here and fucking wait?" Whiskey asks, and I get the feeling he wants a little excitement more than he's worried about Morgan, and that makes me want to crack my fucking keyboard over his head.