Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
"He might." I swallow. "Um, we got married this morning."
My mom's eyes widen. "You got married?"
I bob my head in a nod. "Please don't be mad that you weren't there. I didn't want it to be this big overwhelming thing. I just wanted it to be about us." My throat burns with emotion. "We needed it to be just the two of us."
"Sweetheart, I'm not mad." My mom wraps her arms around me. "When we got married, it was just the two of us and you girls. That's what we wanted too."
"Dad is going to be so mad."
"He might surprise you, Isla. He's taken the news of you and Brantley very well, all things considered."
"Really?"
She nods. "He's disappointed you felt like you needed to keep it from him. That's something the two of you need to discuss. But he's not angry." She taps me on the nose, smiling. "He knows more than you think he does, you know. He's smart like that."
"I should go talk to him."
"Yeah, you should."
I nod, inhaling a deep breath. Ready to fight for Brantley and what I want, even if it means fighting my father. I send up a prayer that it doesn't come to that—that my mom is right and he's willing to give Brantley the chance he deserves—and then I stride toward the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Brantley
Istep over the threshold into the Sterling mansion, pissed beyond measure. Alton Jackson is a lying fucking asshole. He sent his people after Isla's sister even after promising he wouldn't? Fuck that.
Mac steps into the house behind me, his footfalls heavy, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches me, those perceptive eyes following my every move.
"Jackson, if you're listening, this is Brantley Hill," I say, lifting my voice so it booms through the house. I want to make sure their bug picks it up, wherever they hid it. "Our deal is off, you motherfucker. You sent your people after her, so you get to pay the price. You won't see a goddamn dime of what my father owed you." I pause. "And you better fucking run if you aren't already, because I'm releasing every goddamn thing I know. Including your name."
I doubt the threat scares the prick, but it should. I gave him a chance to walk away. He didn't take it. He tried to have Isla's sister killed. His whole goddamn organization will pay for that. It'll be my fucking mission in life.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, not surprised when I see the number Jackson gave me flashing across the display.
I put it on speaker so Mac can hear what he has to say, too.
"What the fuck do you want?" I growl.
"They weren't acting on my orders, Hill," he says, his voice tight. "I ordered them to leave her alone, but they saw an opportunity and took it anyway."
"They're your men," I remind him. "That makes it your goddamn problem. They tried to kill her."
"I know. It wasn't supposed to happen."
"I'm not paying you."
He's quiet for a long moment. "We know where she is, Hill. And she isn't the only sister. She has a twin." He pauses. "But you already know that, don't you? You've been fucking her."
A growl rumbles in Mac's throat.
"I'll rip your fucking organization apart at the seams," I snarl, my grip tightening on the phone. "You come near Isla or her sister again, and it'll be the last thing any of you ever do."
"Jackson," Mac says, a thread of iron in his voice as he plucks the phone from my hand. "This is Mac Sterling."
"Sterling," Jackson says, wariness seeping down the line.
"You're going to want to rethink threatening my daughters," he says, his voice deathly calm. "You'll want to rethink whatever bullshit you're considering right now, too. Because my people have one of your men, and he's been spilling your secrets all day. We know who you get your drugs from. We know who you have in your pocket. We know who owes you favors. And we know which of your sons kills for you."
Jackson doesn't say a word.
"Fuck with my family, and we'll destroy yours," Mac says. "And just so we're clear, Brantley and his mother are my family. They're off limits too. Do not test me. I sent my own wife to prison for fucking with my family. Don't think I won't rip yours apart."
He jabs the button, disconnecting the call, and then calmly hands my phone back to me before jerking his head toward the kitchen.
I follow him that way, neither of us speaking as we pass through the massive, airy room and then out into the landscaped backyard. We walk several yards away from the house before Mac mutters a curse, spinning to face me.
"I'm half tempted to destroy him and his family just because he threatened the girls," he growls, pacing back and forth.