Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Do we just ask him?” Mia asks.
“I’ll find out,” Blake replies. “I’ve got this.”
Another thing about Blake I like when he says, I got this, he’s got this.
The elevator halts and we exit, loading up in an SUV driven by one of Blake’s men with Blake in the passenger seat, and Mia and I in the backseat. “I pray I didn’t bring a problem with me by hiring Kevin.”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. If he’s a problem, we might not have seen him coming if not for you bringing him over. If he’s a friend and helping us, we’ll take the help.”
Blake leans around the seat. “If these people in this file,” he says, indicating the folder, “are the bad eggs, then he did us a favor. And he might not have done it if you wouldn’t have given him a reason to protect Grayson, like a job.”
I kiss her hand. “It’s all going to be over soon, baby,” I say, but the worry in her eyes doesn’t fade. Three months doesn’t feel like soon, not to her or me. In this moment, I’m still battling with that need to just take her away somewhere for three months, where we can get lost in each other, and where she’ll be safe. But I have an equal need to be right here, fighting this invisible enemy—making this go away forever. And Mia wants to be home, in our home. She’s been alone too long. I didn’t bring her home soon enough.
And that’s what’s going to happen.
We’re going home.
I’m ending this one way or another, sooner not later.
And I’m going to marry her, sooner not later.
The entire idea of eloping sits heavy and insistent inside me. I want her to be my wife and I have no idea why that feels as damn urgent as it does. She’s back in my life. That should be enough and yet it’s not. Not even close.
Chapter sixty-six
Mia
Our lunch is at the restaurant and bar in the building where Reese and Cat actually live, and not far from the courthouse. Grayson and I, along with Blake, meetup with them at the hostess stand and while Blake knows them and can point them out, they’re also hard to miss. Reese Summer is tall, dark, and gorgeous in a dark suit, and his wife Cat is a stunning petite blonde in a pink pantsuit. They fit in ways I can’t explain. They’re perfect together. I also happen to know that Cat writes the syndicated “Cat Does Crime” column that I adore, which makes my fangirl moment hard to contain but I manage, barely.
“Grayson Bennett,” Reese greets, shaking his hand as the hostess looks for a properly-sized table. “Not often I represent a competitor though I understand you have done some work with my brothers-in-law, Reid and Gabe.”
“I have,” Grayson confirms, “And I don’t see them or us as competitors.,” he adds, and he means it. Like his father before him, Grayson isn’t cutthroat. He’s competitive, but in the right ways and in the proper context.
“Blake assured me that you’d not only say that but mean it,” Reese replies. “From my research, it seems you might be one of the rare few who really are honest and sincere.”
“My father set a certain expectation from the day I could walk,” Grayson assures him.
“And his father was his hero,” I say, catching his arm. “He still is.”
“I met him once,” Reese replies. “I liked him.”
“As my father would say,” Grayson replies. “We’re warriors fighting the same battle. And in this case, I need an impartial warrior who I trust.”
“I’m going to head to the bar and let you four chat and get to know each other,” Blake interjects, eyeing Grayson. “I’ve updated Reese on everything, but if you need data or confirmation of data, I’ll be here.” He saunters away.
A few minutes later, Grayson and I are at a wooden table across from Reese and Cat, and in the middle of the intimate seating area. Clusters of tables sit nearby but are empty, with televisions hanging in plentiful locations. And with Cat directly across from me, I can no longer hold back my admiration. “I adore your column,” I gush. “I read it religiously, even when I’m too swamped to read not much else. It’s so very Sex in The City meets Criminal Minds. I love the way you question ethical choices and challenge new thinking.”
“Thank you,” she says. “I love what I do and,” she looks between me and Grayson, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m here. I work sidebar, so to speak, for Reese on a regular basis.”
“Two for one,” Grayson replies. “As long as I don’t end up in your column.”
“Oh no,” Cat replies quickly. “I’d never write about you unless you wanted me to write about you and even then, I’d still have to feel good about it. I don’t write what people want me to write. I write what I feel passionate about.”