Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
God’s heart was beating too fast. “You’re right. I do know Leo. And I saw the look on his fuckin’ face… I know that face.”
Hart didn’t back down. “So go to him and hear him out first.”
God’s eyes burned. He stared over Hart’s shoulder at nothing, jaw trembling.
Hart sighed. “I’m following you home. I’ll wait outside. But if you start to lose your shit, I’m dragging your ass outta there. We clear?”
God clenched the wheel so hard the leather creaked. “You let me handle my husband.”
“I plan to.” Hart leapt down. “But I’m not lettin’ you make a mess that takes a magistrate to clean up. Not over a rumor. Not even one that looks as blatant as that one.”
God didn’t want to hear anymore of Hart’s reasoning as he stomped on the gas.
He peeled out of the lot, tires screeching, fury thrumming like heroin in his veins.
After he’d gone a couple of blocks, he heard his best friend’s Harley roaring up the street behind him.
God
God floored his truck into his driveway as though he was trying to outrun his rage.
He slammed the gear into park and lifted the garage door with his remote.
He froze, his heart sinking when he didn’t see Day’s Mustang.
He said he was going home.
God looked at the clock on the dashboard.
That was three fuckin’ hours ago.
He’d said his head was hurting and he needed to take some Tylenol and lie down.
The taste of infidelity flooded his mouth, putrid and tangy.
Hart rolled in behind him as he exploded out of his truck.
He rammed his key into the lock and threw the door open so hard the knob punched a hole in the drywall.
Hart was right behind him.
“Cash—”
“Don’t.” God’s voice was hoarse as he choked on his emotions.
He stalked through the house, scanning the dark rooms. The place felt cavernous and cold. There was no light jazz playing or the scent of woodsy citrus that permeated the house whenever Day took a bath. No snoring coming from their bedroom.
Just silence.
Hart’s voice echoed behind him, calm but urgent. “Cash, listen to me. Day wouldn’t do this. You know he wouldn’t.”
God spun around. “I thought I knew a lot of shit, Ivan. But clearly, I know fuck all.”
God’s skull pounded with signs he should’ve noticed long ago. He was a detective for Christ’s sake.
His mind became a whirlwind of images: Day always leaving the office early to run errands. Insisting they take separate cars all the time. Slipping out of their bed at night, never wanting to make love. The showers they used to share that were now solo affairs. The way Day’s laughs and jokes had faded over the last several months. The hurt on his face when God declined ninety-nine percent of the things he wanted to do.
He dropped into the leather chair in the den, feeling as if he’d lost everything…for nothing. All he’d had to do was pay attention.
Hart hovered nearby, not speaking, just trying to be his brother.
God’s gaze drifted to the photos on the walls. Snapshots of him and Day, smiling, arms wrapped around each other.
Their wedding photo.
Pictures with the guys.
Ruxs and Green, always laughing and in each other’s space. Syn and Furi, always touching. Tech and Steele, leaning into each other like magnets.
All of them paying attention and taking care of their men…except me.
He’d been drowning himself in work, figuring Day would always be there, assuming he’d wait forever while he prioritized the task force over everything, even him.
And now…Day wasn’t in their bed…he was in someone else’s.
A vicious, ugly feeling surged up his spine. He bolted out of the chair making Hart flinch.
“I’m done waitin’ around. I’m about to fix this shit right now,” God bit out. “But first, I need to eliminate my competition.”
Hart’s eyes widened. “Cash—no.”
God jabbed at his watch. “Free. Find Day. Right-fuckin’-now. But don’t alert him.”
Hart lunged forward, trying to grab his arm. “Cash, don’t do this—”
“Free!” God roared into the comm.
Free’s voice came back a second later. “Uh…sure.”
“Find him!”
“You’re makin’ a mistake.” Hart grabbed his shoulders. “I’m your brother, and I’m not about to let you go off half-cocked and blow up your whole life.”
God shoved him off.
Seconds later, Free pinged back. “Got an address. He’s in Sandy Springs, a neighborhood on the north side.”
Of course it is.
God’s nostrils flared. “Load it up on the GPS in my truck.”
Free hesitated. “Um, Ruxs and Green are listening in. They said they’re rolling with you.”
“Good,” God snarled. “Saves me a call.”
“Cash, I swear, if you break a single law, I’ll arrest you myself.”
God ignored Hart as he barged back out of the front door. Hart barely managed to jump into the passenger seat before he had his truck in reverse.
Two minutes later, he was flooring it up I-85 to the northside.
He squealed tires into the Sandy Springs community, that looked as if it was its own world.