Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The silver-eyed man shifts his gaze from me to Craven’s hand to his face and a coldness, more icy than moments ago, settles into those storm-angry eyes. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t need to. Not a moment later, Craven removes his sweaty paw from my shoulder and the masked man who has hold of me releases me. The instant he does, I put space between us, bending to pick up my tray, pushing strands of hair that’s fallen out of my bun back behind my ears.
“She didn’t spill anything on you, did she, Mr. St. James?”
Mr. What?
The world tilts and it takes all I have not to topple over.
“She’ll be reprimanded if she did,” Craven is saying. He mutters something about borrowing a cane and laughs like it’s the funniest thing anyone has ever said. He’s the only one laughing.
Get your shit together, Blue. Get it fucking together. Even if he’s him, he doesn’t know who I am. He has no idea. How could he?
“Excuse me,” I manage.
The man with the wolf eyes settles into the oversized leather armchair and picks up his tumbler of whiskey. When his sleeve draws back, I catch a glimpse of the expensive watch on his wrist and ink similar to the other man’s twisting around to the back of his hand. I wonder what it is. Why they both have it and what it means. And I’m reminded this is for real. Not a game.
Ezekiel St. James is a member of a secret society and I tried to blackmail him.
When my gaze flitters up to his, I find his locked on me, watching me. Not missing a single beat.
Fingers on my throat, I slip away as quickly as I can, hearing Craven make some apology offering to comp their drinks. I push through the swinging doors of the locker room and run into a bathroom stall where I lock the door behind me, drop to my knees and puke.
2
Ezekiel
Craven finally walks away. This round of drinks is on him apparently. Fucking idiot.
The curtain the girl disappeared behind settles into place. From the look on her face, I guess she heard who I was.
“I take it that’s her,” Jericho says. I feel his eyes on me as he slips his mask to the top of his head. “You okay?”
I swallow whiskey, feeling more okay than I have since receiving the first email months ago. In fact, I feel anger, only anger. I push my mask off and turn to Jericho.
“I’m fine. Good, actually.”
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
My brother and I study one another. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him. We’ve talked a handful of times in those years. Business mostly. He looks good. Younger somehow. Happy.
“How is your wife?” I ask, instead of answering his question, because I know she’s one of the reasons he’s happy.
He smiles, warmth blooming in his eyes. Something new for my brother. “Isabelle’s good.”
“Angelique?”
“Getting bigger every day. She misses you, you know.”
“We FaceTime often.” Angelique is my niece. She’s Jericho and Kimberly’s daughter whom Jericho kept hidden from the world for years. Hidden from me, too. I understood his decision. I’d probably have done the same, considering.
“FaceTime is not the same and you know it.”
“Mom and the boys?” My brother adopted Matty Bishop, Isabelle’s nephew, the son of his enemy. He and Isabelle had their first child, a boy named Christian, a year and a half ago and their second son, Adan, a few months ago.
“They’re all good. You should see Angelique with them. Calls them the kids.” He chuckles. It’s a new look for my brother. It’s a good look. “And mom’s doing well. Healthy. Happy.” He pauses. “Isabelle’s pregnant again,” he adds, seeming almost hesitant. Almost as though he is not sure if he should share his news with me. “A happy surprise.”
“Contraception is a thing, brother.”
He shrugs a shoulder.
I smile. I’m happy for him, truly. I want to be, at least. Although there’s something between Jericho and I that has never healed. That I seem to hold on to. Seeing him again after these years just reminds me how powerful that thing is.
Jericho is my big brother and in the years Zoë, mom and I needed him most, he was gone. Traveling to whatever corner of the world he wanted to disappear to while the shitstorm that was our father ripped our home, and what was left of our family, apart. It may be unfair, but I can’t help but wonder if things might have been different if Jericho hadn’t left whenever he could. If he’d just been there with us. He knew what dad was like even if he didn’t know everything he'd done until it was far too late. But, when things got ugly, Jericho vanished without once looking back. I haven’t forgiven him, even if there’s a part of me that wants to. That knows he was dealing with things the only way he knew how.