Page 141 of Beat of Love
Showing how much power she yielded.
And what little resistance he had against that power.
Rafferty dropped his head and sagged to his haunches, so fucking tired of living with the endless darkness, of lugging the load of bitterness around.
Then let it go.
His eyes popped open, and he straightened, blinking against the onslaught of light. He shoved his sunglasses back on, cutting the harsh glare. “Let it go?” he whispered.
Let it go,the voice in his head repeated.
Had his brother shoved his way into his mind uninvited?That you, Sully?
Silence.
Sull?
Nothing. Nothing except the quack of a duck and the soft splash as it waddled from the grassy bank into the water.
But something nagged him … the voice was familiar. He jolted as a memory slipped in. The last time he’d heardthatvoice was just before he’d lapsed into unconsciousness following theattack on the coca farm in Brazil.Hold on,it had said then,she’s coming for you.
Well …shit.
He gave the endless blue expanse above him a puzzled look. His father always spoke of hearing God, something Rafferty had dismissed as the man’s way of coping with life. Was it the voice of a Higher Power? If so, why would God concern Himself with someone likehim, Rafferty Lawson?
He bit out a harsh laugh.
Stop the foolishness. The answer was simple. God wouldn’t.
And he had stuff to do. Important stuff. Finding Kamila. Meeting with the CPS lady later this afternoon.
Emitting an angry curse, he spun about, shoved his ballcap on his head, and strode up the embankment.
As he reached the edge of the park, his phone vibrated, slowing his steps. He fished it out of his back pocket, and fuck, his heart skipped a beat. Halting, he tapped the green icon. “Red.”
There was a slight pause before she spoke. “You’ve been on my mind.”
She’d been thinking of him? His blood pumped faster, and despite his agitated mood, a smile plucked at his lips. “Yeah?”
“Hmm. Knowing that woman’s alive … I can’t even imagine.” Her swallow was audible. “How … how are you holding up, sugar?”
The word “fine” hovered on the tip of his tongue, yet he found himself saying, “I’m not, Red.”
What he wouldn’t give to be beside her on her veranda swing.
Just sitting quietly, basking in her nearness, her goodness.
“Do you … wanna talk about it?”
And sully her with his flaws? His dark thoughts?
No! A thousand times no.
But yet again, he found himself going against his better judgement. “I hate her,” he rasped, admitting the dark emotion etched into his soul. He walked to a nearby bench placed alongside the gravel walkway and plonked his ass down. “Almost as much as I fear her. One glimpse of her photo, and it was like I was back there, chained to the fucking post and … and I …” He placed his elbow on a knee, propping his forehead on his hand, staring at the ground. “I lost it, Red. Just lost it,” he whispered.
“It was a shock. And your reaction is perfectly understandable. She tortured you, for goodness’ sake, Raff,” Brandy exclaimed, righteous anger underlining her voice.
“You don’t understand.”
