Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I have faith in the Mike Bravo team, but this has been a clusterfuck ever since Billy Webber sent that letter.
What I can’t work out is how Webber found us.
The answer is right there, I know it.
What the fuck am I missing?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harley
I wish I could say our next few days are filled with getting lost in each other and forgetting about the threat hanging over my head, but that’s not what happens at all.
Not even close.
Brix doesn’t come to bed when I do. He stays awake until there’s an update from Trav.
He’s preoccupied and barely listens when I talk.
I can tell he wants to be out there in the action instead of stuck inside with me all day.
He took me to the shooting range at the back of the property once as a distraction, but it wasn’t like last time. We each took our own booth, and it was less fun than when he was teaching me.
Plus, I still suck at aiming.
I know Brix’s attitude has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the situation in general, but I don’t know what to do. Or say.
It’s kind of awkward between us.
I walk into the formal dining room where a twenty-seat mahogany table sits. The crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling shines under the bright light. A brick fireplace along one wall gives the room ambiance. It’s without a doubt the fanciest room in the house. The décor in this place is definitely not something I’d pick for Trav.
Brix has turned the room into an office, claiming he didn’t want to use Trav’s office because it would be like invading the man’s privacy.
“Maybe we should do something normal people do,” I say. “Pretend this whole thing isn’t happening.”
Brix doesn’t look up from the laptop he did feel comfortable enough to borrow from Trav. I mean, if Trav is going to hide embarrassing porn or something, the laptop is where it would be. “I need to figure this out. It’s driving me crazy.”
“You need to take a break … Whoa, crazy role reversal here.”
Brix finally looks up from the screen to smile at me. It’s the first smile I’ve seen in days. “Fine. What ‘normal’ activity do you want to do?” He eyes me from head to toe with heat burning in his gaze.
“Oh hell no. You don’t get sex when you’ve been refusing to come to bed until I’m already passed out. Waiting for you to finish with”—I wave my hand at the table—“your work is tiring.”
Brix pulls out his chair and pats his knee.
I wish I could say I was strong enough to resist, but I’m not. I sit sideways across his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.
His strong hands embrace me for the first time in days. Yeah, when he has eventually come to bed, he’s cuddled into me and I’ve woken up wrapped around him, but this is different.
“I’m sorry I’ve been distracted.” He kisses his way across my cheek and then down my neck.
“I want to watch a movie.”
Brix pulls back, and his brow scrunches. “Like a porno? I’d be down for that.” His hand makes his way under my shirt.
I snort. “No. Like, a movie movie. That’s a normal-person thing to do, isn’t it? It might distract us both. Does Trav subscribe to, like, Netflix or something out here?”
“You really want to watch TV?” Brix shifts underneath me.
“Yes, because you’ve been ignoring me for days.”
“So this is my punishment?”
“Yes. No, wait, hanging out with me is not a punishment.”
Brix laughs. “I’ll watch whatever you want me to watch, and I promise I’ll keep my groping hands to myself until you tell me I don’t have to anymore.”
“I kind of like the groping hands.”
His lips touch mine nice and slow, and then he taps me to stand. “You go put something on the TV. I’ll go find some popcorn. Trav should have some stashed somewhere.”
“Confession …”
Brix’s eyes widen. “What is it?”
“I hate popcorn.”
He gasps. “You’re a monster, and this will never work.”
“It makes me so thirsty,” I whine.
“There’s this thing. They call it water. You might have heard of it.”
“But then I need to piss during the movie. Popcorn is the worst movie snack ever.”
“I don’t think we can be together.”
I pout.
“Okay, fine.” Brix sighs dramatically. “I’ll pretend this dark side of your soul doesn’t exist, but you’re asking a lot of me.”
We move into the living room with the giant hundred-inch TV. Brix sits on the edge of the couch and leans back, lying half on and half off it, with his arm running along the top.
I fit next to him and lie with my head on his chest.
This. This is what I want.
“What are we watching?” Brix asks.
“Hmm, to continue to torture you or put you out of your misery …”