Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
1-555-524-9963: Time’s up, whore. You have what I want?
1-555-524-9963: Stop trying to stall. Unless you’re trying to get fucked one last time by daddy. Feel free to tell him to send you my way. I’m always up for sloppy seconds, or should I say thirds?
1-555-524-9963: Don’t fucking ignore me. I’ll tell Noah everything. Just imagine what will happen when he finds out his ex whore is fucking his daddy.
1-555-524-9963: Stop messing with me, cunt. Get that ledger or I’ll fucking gut you. Blood turns me on. I’ll use your guts to lube my cock while I jerk off to your corpse.
1-555-524-9963:Playtime’s over. You have one hour, bitch.
By the last one, I can’t contain the fury burning inside my chest.
That piece of shit is going to pay.
God, I fucked up. The prick was holding serious shit over her, and I left her to deal with it on her own. She tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen, too consumed by my own anger.
I storm through the office. “Mr. Blake, where are you going? You have a nine o’clock with the Winster—”
“Cancel my meetings. I won’t be returning today.”
I punch the hotel into my GPS. Tracking down Vince and tearing his throat out should be my first priority, but I need to get to Georgia and fix the damage I’ve caused.
If it’s not already too late.
I make it in record time. Leaving my car with the valet, I hurry to the room number Craig supplied. My heart pounds as I approach her door and knock. The echo of my rap stretches on forever. No answer. I try again, harder this time, my urgency climbing with each passing second. Still nothing. I slam my fist against the door again, harder, louder—
“Jesus, hold on.”
I exhale, releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I’m suddenly nervous. Fuck, I don’t get nervous. I scramble to find the words to say when she opens the door. Her eyes lock on mine. They’re red and swollen. She’s been crying. Her shoulders sag. She looks utterly defeated.
“Wha—What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk.”
“I think you said enough.” She shoves the door to shut it, and I plant my palm against it, blocking her. “Jackson, you need to leave.”
“Peach, please.”
It kills me to watch her lip quiver. “Don’t call me that.”
“Let me in. Please.”
Her eyes close, a single tear slipping down her pale cheek. It hits me like a punch to the gut. I want nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and make all the pain I caused melt away. Shaking her head, she says, “I can’t. I’ve accepted what I’ve done. I’m not going to relive it—”
“I was wrong.”
The words rush out before she has the chance to send me away. “I should’ve listened. Given you a chance to explain. If I had, I would’ve realized the fucked up situation you were in. Instead, I said awful things—things I wish I could take back—things I didn’t mean. If I would’ve trusted you, which I should have—”
“I… I tried to tell you—”
“And I’m a bastard for not listening. You probably hate me. I hate myself. You did what you had to do. I would’ve done the same thing.”
“But I didn’t come to you. I was going to hand over the ledger without knowing what it would’ve done to you. It could’ve ruined you. I didn’t even ask. I took your life in my hands. Noah’s life. I would have destroyed you both because I was selfish—”
I reach for her and wrap her in my arms. She breaks down, sobbing against my chest. Lifting her, I carry her into the room, letting the door shut behind me. “Shhh…” I coo, sitting on the bed. I cuddle her in my lap and rub her back until her sobs subside.
When she pulls away, the sight of her pulls at my heart. I did this to her. “Peach, I’m so sorry.”
“For what? I’m the liar.”
“No, you’re human. You made a choice not to hurt Noah.”
“But I would’ve hurt you, making it even worse.”
I cup her cheeks, using my thumb to wipe away her tears. “Baby, you wouldn’t have. In the end, you chose not to.”
“But—”
I press my lips to hers, unable to bear another moment without kissing her, feeling her, tasting her. I kiss her until some of the tension eases—until I feel a sliver of relief from having her back in my arms. I pull back and look down at her. “This is on me. Not you. I brought this shit to your door. Vince wouldn’t have done what he had if it weren’t for wanting to get to me.”
“But why? What’s so important about the ledger that he’s willing to go to such lengths to get it?”
I let out a heavy sigh. Time to come clean. “A lifetime ago, Burt Hallstead and I were friends. More like brothers. We met at Harvard and, during that time, tossed around ideas about starting a company together. My skill set was in IT and logistics, a combination that’s hard to find. What I was able to do wasn’t something you saw often in this field, let alone that early in someone’s college career. He was a genius in marketing and business. It took years, but we finally mastered a coding program that allowed a machine to perform basic surgical procedures.”