Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Fuck, all I had was more questions than answers.
“I guess I’ll say good night,” I murmured, since I had no idea what else to say to Nash. I turned to go, but stopped when Nash spoke.
“Everett.”
My insides danced, but I couldn’t force myself to turn around. As much as I wanted to know what Nash wasn’t saying, I was also afraid of my newfound ability.
“I’m sorry about today. It won’t happen again.”
I wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the fight with Gage, his dereliction of duty for leaving me unprotected, or the fact that he was breaking another rule by drinking on the job, but I didn’t really care. So, I settled for responding with something that I hoped wouldn’t cross that line of professional versus personal, but would still make it clear to Nash how I was feeling.
“I’m glad you’re back, Nash.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, I hurried back to my room, my mind reeling with too much information to process. As I got into bed, I tried to push everything out of my head so I could find some peace in sleep, but my dreams were anything but peaceful. The fantasies that had only so far played a starring role during my morning showers had taken root in my nighttime dreams too, and when I woke up a few minutes before my alarm went off, my body was locked up tight with the need to come. I didn’t even consider what it meant. I just closed my hand around my painfully hard dick, stroked a few times, and spewed all over my fingers, T-shirt, and the bedding.
It wasn’t until I reached for a tissue on the nightstand that the cold, hard, painful reality hit me.
Not only had I dreamt about two men at the same time, it was also the first night I hadn’t dreamt of Pierce.
Chapter 14
Nash
Attending the funeral of a guy you knew wasn’t dead was just weird. And watching his friend pretend to grieve the loss was just weirder.
Although I suspected Everett didn’t need to entirely pretend to get the dejected look he was sporting. It’d pretty much been there from the moment we’d run into each other yesterday morning in the kitchen. Everett had been sipping his coffee at the kitchen table when I’d stumbled into the room feeling like death warmed over. Everett hadn’t commented on the obvious hangover. He hadn’t commented on much of anything.
I should have been grateful for that, since he was more than justified in having a lot to say about my behavior.
Even if he’d been able to overlook what I’d done to our host, he sure as shit should have fired my ass for leaving him without protection. Of course, I’d known he wasn’t in any danger, but I’d still fully expected him to can me once I’d forced myself to return to the Fortier property. It was one of the reasons I’d stayed away for so long.
The other had to do with a certain prying asshole who’d decided to hit me where it hurt the most.
And he’d done an excellent job.
Not only had he discovered my shameful secret, he’d done it in a way that had left me looking like a complete lunatic. He’d taken me down in front of Everett without having to even throw a single punch.
I could only figure Gage had told Everett all about my fucked-up childhood. There was just no other way to explain why Everett was being so nice to me. Even his offer to have Agent Simmons or another agent replace me could have come from his fear of being around me, rather than out of some deference to my comfort. I’d seen Everett’s apprehension when he’d looked at my bruised knuckles. It would have been odd if he hadn’t been afraid of me. But he hadn’t acted afraid since we’d left Seattle. In fact, he’d been acting odd.
Well, not odd. Just not like himself. For one, he was chattier than usual and kept asking me what I thought of things, like if I’d liked the guy handling Vincent’s estate or what tie he should wear to the funeral. Odder still, he kept looking at me.
Actually, that wasn’t quite accurate – he kept catching me looking at him.
He’d never called me on it, but I’d sworn I’d seen him smile every once in a while when he did it.
It would have been easier to avoid all this shit if I’d just taken him up on the offer to find someone else to protect him.
But then I would have had to admit to him what I’d done to make it possible for me to protect him while he was in Seattle in the first place.
Yeah, like that’s the only reason you didn’t accept the offer.
I told the voice in my head to shut up and shifted my focus from our surroundings to Everett as the priest finished up his comments. The funeral was pathetically small, but I figured that had a lot to do with the mysteriousness that Vincent wore like a shroud. I still had no clue who he really was, but I’d guessed enough from his actions over the past couple of weeks that whatever his profession had been, it hadn’t exactly been aboveboard. The fact that the man had to fake his own death was pretty telling. In theory, I was a threat to Vincent, since I appeared to be one of just a handful of people who knew he was still alive, but either he wasn’t worried about me talking or he figured people wouldn’t believe me.