Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
We can't go through that shit again.
"What happened?"
"Lyle Taggert shot him." Taggert has been harassing the model that Zion's protecting. However, from what Zayne said last time we talked, I think our little brother may be doing more than just protecting Makenzie Baird. It sounds to me like I'm not the only Carmichael breaking Rule One.
I suppose it's fitting that we all fall in love at the same goddamn time. We've done everything else together our entire lives.
"Did Zion kill him?"
"Sadly, no." Zayne's eyes glitter with malice. "But some genius thought it'd be a good idea to bring him here too. He's right across the hall. Our little brother has been tryin' to get over there to finish the job since he found out."
"Good," I grunt.
"You should go back and see him so you can get back to your girl. I know you don't like to leave her for long."
I eye Zayne sideways. "You sound disturbingly rational today. Why?"
"Maybe I'm just in a good mood."
"Your brother just got shot, jackass. Why are you in a good mood?"
He shrugs, refusing to answer.
"Holy shit," I mutter. "She stopped telling you no."
"Where the fuck have you been? She stopped tellin' me no days ago. We're planning our wedding already." He smirks, his eyes lighter than they've been in weeks. "I bet we beat you to the altar."
"I'm not betting on which of us gets married first, you idiot. My girl is being stalked."
"So, you admit that she is yours."
"You remember that time you hid poison ivy in Zion's sock drawer, but Ma swapped his sock and underwear drawers around the next day and didn't notice the leaf?" I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Keep pissing me off and I'm telling them both why he had a goddamn rash on his ass for three months."
"Damn, I forgot about that." Zayne laughs.
"Yeah, she's mine," I growl. "And I may need your help tomorrow." I quickly fill him in on the situation, catching him up to speed on everything that's been going on.
"Jesus H. Christ, Gideon. Why the fuck haven't you said anything about any of this?" he growls, glaring daggers at me.
"I've been handling it."
"Yeah, well, we don't handle shit like this alone. There's a reason Zion's back there right now. He thought he was handling his shit too." Zayne mutters a curse. "I should kick both of your asses."
"Or you could be the older brother you've always been and help a motherfucker out," I suggest. "Because that's what I need right now, Zayne. You can be pissed later. But for now, I just need you to help me make sure I don't lose the most important person I've ever met."
"You know I've got you," he says, clamping his hand down on my shoulder. "You don't even have to fucking ask. I'll be there."
I exhale, grateful beyond words that this idiot is my brother. There isn't anyone else I'd rather have watching my back than him and Zion. Zion can't be there. He's got a bullet hole in him and his own shit to deal with. But knowing Zayne will be at the arena tomorrow to help keep my girl safe makes me feel a whole helluva lot better.
I check in on Zion and spend a few minutes watching Ma fuss over him before Makenzie arrives. As soon as she sees Zion, she sinks to the floor. My brother is across the room to her in two steps, pulling her onto his lap.
I avert my gaze, trying to give them a little bit of privacy as they share a private moment. When he starts growling that she's marrying him, I decide it's time for me to get the fuck out of there.
I leave Ma with Zayne and head to the truck, eager to get back to my girl. After seeing Zion with his, I'm more convinced than ever that Kenna is the only woman for me.
I try to call her on the way to the truck, but she doesn't answer.
I notice several missed calls from Trent and dial his number to see if he has anything for me. Surely, he's calling with good news.
"Hey, I've been trying to reach you."
"I know. That's why I'm calling. What's up?"
"I have something."
"Give it to me."
"John Ballentine and Clive Rucker are old high school buddies," he says. "Rucker nearly lost the bar a dozen years ago. Guess who bailed him out?"
"Jesus. You're sure?"
"Positive. I even pulled up the damn yearbook. They were tight."
"Tight enough for Clive to commit crimes for him?"
"Tight enough for John to pay off a quarter of a mill in gambling debts to save his bar," Trent says. "You wanted someone who owes John; he's your guy. It looks to me like he owes him a whole helluva lot."
"Fuck." I never even considered Rucker, but I should have. He had access to the entire bar. He could have easily slipped into the dressing room and planted those photos. No one would have noticed. Why would they when he owned the fucking place?