Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I skipped the part about injuring the guy and went right to the fact that he used to be an officer working for Wilson.
“The chief of police who beat Griffin?” John asked.
“The same.”
“So this had nothing to do with Caitlyn?”
“No, sir, it didn’t.”
“Why does Wilson want to hurt Griffin?” Viola asked me.
“I don’t know that he does because everything that could have happened to him, basically has,” I explained. “There’s no trial, there’s no smoking gun, and what he did to Griff was the same that he’s done to a lot of others.”
“But you’re the one who got Griffin out of that situation,” John pointed out. “So could this man have been after you?”
“Doubtful. People don’t normally target fixers because we’re seen as bodyguards. We’re here to do a job, we’re not members of the community.”
John nodded. “That makes sense. So then you’re thinking this has to do with Griffin after all?”
“Again, that’s unlikely. But the Newcastle deputy chief will let me know as soon as he questions Ward Firmin.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s in the hospital.”
“You put him in the hospital?” Griff asked me.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Tatum asked me.
“Because he was running away and I needed him to stop.”
“That’s good,” Darwin said, and we all turned to him. “I mean, if he was here to hurt Griff, I don’t want him to be able to do that.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s recovered by now, but until Deputy Chief Sampson gives us a report, we’re all gonna lie low and stay inside.”
“There’s a monsoon out there,” John grumbled. “What else are we gonna do? Thank God the electricity’s on so we can watch movies.”
Of course that was the moment the lights went out.
“Way to go, Grampy,” Tatum said, shaking her head.
Viola had to press her hand to her face to keep from laughing.
“Yeah, way to go, Dad,” Luke said sulkily.
That was it—Viola lost it, and as her mirth was contagious, everyone else joined in.
We had all played Uno in the dark for an hour and everyone wanted to keep going even when the power kicked back on. They even stopped complaining about my rules. Who didn’t stack Draw 2 and Draw 4 cards? That was madness.
Later that night, after Luke had carried Tatum to bed, I was sitting on the couch, listening to the rain, wrapped up in a blanket, wondering if I would ever be warm again. It had been hours, and still, my hands and feet were icy, as was the pit of my stomach. I’d started running through what-ifs, as I always did after an altercation, and Luke had been right. Not taking my gun with me had been stupid. Everyone, from my first training officer to Jared Colter, would have wondered how far up my ass my head was.
“What are you doing?” Luke asked, flipping off lights on his way to me. The only one still on was in the kitchen, over the stove.
“Sitting here thinking that you were right. I should have taken my gun.”
“Well, maybe stop berating yourself and focus on me instead.”
“I’m sorry?”
He held out his hand, and when I took it, he pulled me to my feet, peeling me out of the blanket and leaving it on the couch.
“But I’m still cold.”
“I will take care of that.”
I scoffed.
“What?”
“That was some cheesy crap right there.”
“Will you just come with me, please?”
I grunted but followed, thinking how good his hand felt in mine.
In his room, he locked the door behind him.
“Did you set the alarm?”
“I did.”
“You have to give me your phone so I can check all the cameras.”
“I put it right there on your nightstand.”
I had a weird thought, and he must have seen it on my face.
“No,” he rumbled.
“No what?”
“No, this is not the same bedroom set that was here when Caitlyn was.”
“How did you know?”
“Because if our roles were reversed, I’d wonder about that too.”
I nodded.
“But so you’re aware, I got rid of every bit of her in here. The nightstands are new, and I put the bay window in and the reading nook because I always wanted one.”
I did wonder, because his room was done in deep mahogany and cream, and the style was minimalist, masculine, from the platform bed to the armoires to the heavy rugs on the dark-stained wooden floors.
“The bed frame and mattress are new too,” he explained. “All this is mine and now yours as well. And if you have something at your place in Chicago that you love, then please bring it here.”
“I have a Tiffany lamp my father bought my mother when they got married, and some art I love.”
“I can’t wait to have it in the house.”
I studied his beautiful, chiseled features.
“Do you like the bedroom?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s very warm in here.”
“Good. I’m glad you like it. Now lie down.”
I squinted at him.
“What? Too direct?”
“I’m worried.”
“You’re always worried.”