Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security #2) - Marie James Page 0,76

while telling me he can’t wait to get to know more?

Did he—

“Oh God,” I mutter, dropping the box and making a hasty retreat to the bathroom in the guest bedroom.

I heave into the toilet, the devastation too much to keep down the food we shared earlier.

All of it lies even though I told him from the jump that I value honesty.

Our sexual compatibility feels like betrayal now because there’s no way he didn’t find that shit out online. He created himself into the image of a man I’ve always wanted. He forged ahead, making sure my needs were met because he knew which steps to take. He knew me long before I ever laid eyes on him—what I needed from him—and I don’t think I’ve ever been so manipulated in my life.

My hands tremble as I stand to look at myself in the mirror. I hate the redness in my eyes, the angry flush in my cheeks, and most importantly, I hate the way I still ache from the things he took from my body, the things I willingly gave to him last night because I was working under the illusion that Wren Nelson was put on this earth just for me.

Is this what betrayal feels like? Does it always come with this emptiness?

I’ve been duped, conned in the most sadistic way.

I swallow my hurt and begin to pack, knowing I can’t leave until the text comes through that Jones is out of the picture. The logical part of me registers that Jones contacted me three days before the delivery date stamped on that box, and that’s the only relief I feel. The only thing keeping my sanity intact right now is the math that says Jones reached out before Wren got his hands on that box.

I hold on to that as I drag my suitcases toward the door, praying the entire time that he doesn’t arrive back home before texting. If he forgets that part, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’d like to believe the man that held me all night last night wouldn’t hurt me, but I would’ve bet he was honest before my discovery as well. It just shows that you can’t ever trust anyone.

Chapter 31

Wren

I haven’t felt like this big of a pussy since that time I hid in the janitor’s closet in sixth grade when Tyson Aldridge was looking for me after he heard I talked to Mindy Regan. The similarities of the lights being out while I all but have my ear to the door makes me roll my eyes.

Of course I’m not in a janitor’s closet, but the nasty bathroom in this shitty hotel isn’t much better. At least that closet smelled of cleaning supplies, whereas this tiny bathroom smells a little like what I imagine death would smell like.

I keep my arms tucked in close, vowing to burn these jeans after tonight, as I sit on the closed toilet lid trying not to think about what this room would look like under a blacklight.

I hate that my girl spent a night here in fear. I hate the man we’re waiting for with a passion. I hate that I’ve been sequestered in this tiny room waiting for the action to go down with no ability to help. I knew Flynn agreed too quickly about me tagging along for it to work out in my favor. Staying out of the way is the name of the game for me, and I’m also unarmed. Apparently, online guns and the real thing aren’t the same thing. Finn assured me he’d get me up to speed with a couple different weapons, but it doesn’t help me right now.

Eerie silence surrounds me to the point I can hear my own breaths escaping my lungs. I promised them I’d stay put until one of the guys on my team comes to get me, and I know I’ll do just that. As much as I want Jones to go down, I’m scared. I’m physically scared of being hurt because I’ve never been in a more stressful situation. But more importantly, I’m terrified he won’t show and will somehow manage to get to Whitney. My determination to be here makes me angry. I could be holding her right now. I could be spending time getting to know her better instead of sitting and waiting. I was a damn fool for thinking I could go all kamikaze on this asshole and save the day. I know my limitations, but clearly where