Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
He glares at me as I walk around the small desk and take the opposite chair. I lean back against it, sliding my hands into my pockets. The gesture should be casual but my fingers curl around that stone, and I’m reminded how fucked up things could truly be.
“Where is my sister?” he asks, tone hostile.
“She’s in my bed,” I tell him with a smirk.
He grits his teeth and although he doesn’t utter a word, his eyes speak volumes.
“She’s probably got a concussion, thanks to you. But she’s alive and she’s safe. No thanks to you on that part.”
He’s clearly surprised, but that surprise morphs into concern in a split second. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I set my elbows on the table and lean toward him because I’m fucking pissed. “If you’re so concerned about her, why would you tell her about the surveillance footage without having any fucking context?”
“Context?” He raises his eyebrows. “What context do I need? You were at our uncle’s house the night he was murdered—”
“Drowned officially.”
“Bullshit.”
“Agreed.”
He opens his mouth then closes it. He’s clearly puzzled by my shared assessment of how his uncle died because a moment passes before he responds. “You were at his house. You spent a fucking hour murdering him. Probably torturing him. Cleaning up after yourself. I have no fucking idea what you did. And then you left checking your fucking watch like you had somewhere to be.”
“That’s a lot of blanks you’re casually filling in.”
“Oh? It doesn’t take a genius to fill in those blanks. Any judge and jury will see that.”
“Who’s seen the footage?” I ask because I have two problems here. One being the person or people who have a copy of it and sent that photo to Madelena, and the second being Odin and whoever he worked with to get his hands on a copy.
“No one,” he says, shifting his gaze away.
“You’re a shitty liar, you know that? Try again.”
“Or what? You’ll nail my hands to the table?”
“No. I’ll only do that if you touch what’s mine.”
A beat passes. He studies me because he knows what I’m talking about. Who I’m talking about. “My sister loved her uncle. She was the one closest to him.”
“Let’s just get a few things out in the open here. You and I both know your Uncle Jax wasn’t exactly a saint.”
He keeps his mouth shut and tilts his chin stubbornly up. He knows what I’m talking about.
“And you’re going to tell your sister exactly that.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m the only one who can keep her safe, and I can’t do that unless she starts trusting me.”
“What do you mean?”
I lean back again and glance at the soldier standing against the wall. He’s been with me a long time, but can I trust him? What if Caius was the stranger Madelena mentioned? What if Thiago’s cryptic message to Madelena was about Caius? Because it’s too similar to my father’s message.
At that moment, my mind conjures up the words in the letter Dad had left to be read after his death.
I know what you did, and this is your punishment.
Was he referring to Caius? What could he have done?
“What are you talking about, Santos?” Odin asks.
“Your sister and I had an argument last night,” I say, my side throbbing as if affronted that I did not acknowledge the wound. “She was upset after what you told her and didn’t give me a chance to explain before she went out to the lighthouse.”
“The lighthouse?” His face loses a little color. “Why would she—”
“She wasn’t alone.”
“What?”
“Someone hurt her, and I’m pretty sure she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see.” Thiago’s murder. Because I know in my gut Addy won’t call to tell me she’s seen him. I know that text message will never be delivered. Because his phone is probably somewhere smashed on those cliffs or at the bottom of the ocean by now.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I turn to the soldier. “Leave.”
He nods, and, without question, does as he’s told. I take my cell phone out of my pocket and set it on the table between us.
“I didn’t kill your uncle. He was already dead when I got there.”
“Right.” Odin snorts, leaning back in a failed attempt to appear relaxed.
“He had plenty of enemies. You know how he operated. He wasn’t above blackmail.”
“Like I said, tell that to the judge and jury. I’m sure they’ll believe you.”
I find the recording on my phone. It’s a copy of the original, which is stored in the safe. I hit play, and Odin loses the last of the color on his face.
“Jax Donovan dies in three days’ time,” Odin’s father says. “Make it look like an accident. I don’t want the fucking cops involved any more than you do. I’m sending the deposit now.”