Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
So to most of the outside world I was Zeus. Thankfully, my brothers never called me that and the handful of people who worked for me, like my agent and manager, called me Con but only when there was no one else around.
Zeus had been the guy who’d put Brady Fox in a wheelchair but that was the last person I wanted Micah to see. And I sure as shit never wanted to hear him call me that dreaded name ever again.
So as I lifted him carefully into my arms after he took a near header off the top of the steps, I murmured, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. And it’s Con.”
I glanced down at him and saw that his eyes were closed so I figured he hadn’t heard that last part, which was probably a good thing. I’d already learned something pretty important about Micah Fox. He’d likely bite off his own nose just to spite his face. So asking him to call me by my given name was inviting him to do anything but.
As I hurried to my car, Micah let out a soft moan, assurance that at least he was still alive. I did my best not to jostle him too much. Despite his height, he weighed next to nothing, a sure sign that he hadn’t been getting enough regular meals in a while. And judging by the condition of the house, food hadn’t been at the top of the list of priorities.
Which meant the money I’d been sending the Fox family had likely only been going one place.
Into people’s arms.
But not Micah’s. I knew that because I’d seen his arms as I’d bound his broken one to his body. Yeah, it was possible he could have track marks in other places, but I doubted it. Nothing about him screamed junkie. And that part I’d heard Ricky say about Barry not wanting Micah’s ass anymore… well, I just didn’t have the headspace to process that. If I gave it too much thought right now, I’d never get Micah to safety.
Hell, if anything, I’d set him down in my car and then return to that ridiculously small bedroom and finish what I’d started with Ricky.
I was that far gone.
My phone ringing in my pocket was enough to distract me from the thought of how many ways I could end Ricky’s life. I didn’t dare answer the thing, though, because my arms were dealing with precious cargo.
I looked down at Micah again and felt a measure of relief at how peaceful he looked.
Which meant, for the moment, he wasn’t feeling any pain.
I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible, so I took my time maneuvering around my car and working the passenger side door open. It occurred to me that I could put him in the back seat, but I was reluctant to have him so far from me. I wanted to be able to monitor his breathing, something I couldn’t easily do if he were in the back seat.
Liar.
I told my inner voice to go to hell and then spent several long seconds settling Micah into the seat and easing the seat belt over him, adjusting it as best as I could so it wouldn’t hurt his injured arm any worse than it already was.
As soon as I got Micah situated, my phone began ringing again. I snatched it out of my pocket and glanced briefly at the caller ID before answering it.
“Did you find them?” I asked my brother as I hurried around the front of the car.
“Yeah,” King said. My sigh of relief was audible, but I didn’t care. Especially when he added, “But we’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?” I asked as I climbed into the car and got it going. I cranked up the heat so Micah wouldn’t get too cold. He was only wearing jeans and a thin T-shirt and while he certainly wouldn’t freeze in the outfit, I was more worried about shock from the trauma setting in.
King’s next words came over the car’s speakers as the Bluetooth picked up the call. “I’ve got the kids but they’re tucked in behind some playground equipment. I can’t reach them and they’re not coming out anytime soon. Do you have the kid?”
I glanced at Micah and realized at that moment, he did indeed look very young.
Young and broken.
“Yeah, but he’s out,” I said as I resisted the urge to brush a stray lock of hair off Micah’s face. His bloodied, battered face.
I had to turn my gaze out the windshield so I didn’t completely lose it when I said, “That fucker did a pretty good number on him. I’ve got to get him to the hospital.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before King said, “The boy’s pretty messed up, Con. I got a glimpse of his face and—”