Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
"Right," I agreed, going to make her a cup.
"And Huck," she said when she heard her man coming in the front door. "Let the girl stay the night."
"I might not be all warm and fuzzy, Ay, but I wasn't planning on kicking a girl out after she had an episode like that."
"Woman, that's a good look on you," Booker, Ayanna's man, said as he moved into the kitchen. I'd known the man casually for years, and had never seen him in anything other than a suit, always looking put together. Booker was tall, fit, dark-skinned, and shaved headed, with keen eyes that seemed to cut right through you. He'd been in security for a while now, quickly building a name and reputation for himself.
It was clear to everyone but him that Ayanna was getting a little sick of never seeing him. That said, she melted when he fed her an easy compliment.
"You should see what I have on under it," Ayanna said, giving him bedroom eyes right in the middle of my kitchen.
"I'll take her off your hands now," Booker said, giving me a nod.
"Give Harmon my number when she's feeling better," Ayanna demanded, tucking under her man's arm as he led her out of the house.
I took the coffee and pills upstairs, grabbing a comforter off the bed in our spare bedroom, then going back into mine.
"Found the good stuff," I told Harmon as I came in the room.
"God, you stomp everywhere you go," she grumbled, rocking, hands still pressed to her eyes. "It's like you have cinder blocks on your feet," she went on as I attempted to step more softly while I made my way across the room, putting down the mug, and shaking out a pill.
"One or two?"
"What kind of good stuff?"
"The kind that can make you sleep or make you high," I told her.
"One," she decided, holding her hand out.
"I bought you coffee."
"Thank you," she said, slowly pushing up, popping the pill in her mouth, then reaching for the coffee. "Can you turn the light any lower in here?"
"I can turn it off completely, or I can put the bathroom light on so it just glows in here a bit.
"Glow is good. I just need an hour or so, then I can go back home," she assured me.
"You're staying.
"No," she objected, leaning back against the headboard, head tipped back. "I'll be okay."
"Yeah, 'cause you're keeping your ass here."
"Huck, I—"
"Thank me for my hospitality," I supplied for her, getting a small smile to pull at her lips. "Don't mention it, babe. Go on. Get some sleep. You're safe here."
I didn't know right that moment that just two hours later, after Harmon had passed out, and I had filled in Remy about the events of the night after he'd taken off to his room with his animals... and three women, and I had finally crashed in the guest room, the house would be woken up by a familiar sound.
Gunshots ringing out.
I was awake and off the bed in a blink, adrenaline pumping through my system as I took a second to register what was going on.
People could be crazy. Shooting off at nothing in the middle of the night.
But this was too close. And just as that thought formed, I could hear the glass breaking downstairs.
"Fuck," I hissed, rushing across the room. By the time I got to the hall, McCoy, Remy, and Che were already rushing out of their rooms, guns in hands. Mine was in my room.
Where Harmon was.
Fuck.
"I need to secure Harmon," I said, not even waiting for a response as I flew into my room, finding Harmon awake, eyes wide, panicked, not sure what to do. "Come on," I said, grabbing her hand, dragging her into the bathroom. "Get in," I demanded, pushing her toward the tub. "Get in and stay low. I have to go and see what is going on. Don't move, okay?" I asked, wasting a precious moment waiting for her shock to wane enough for her to nod in agreement. "I'll be right back," I assured her, then turned and ran, shutting the door, grabbing my gun out of the nightstand, then rushing through the house.
"Who was it?" I asked as McCoy and Seeley came back in from the front.
"White four-door with a donut on the back left," Seeley supplied. "I couldn't make out any faces. It's dark as fuck tonight. I got an X on the license plate," he added, shrugging. "I know that's not much to go on."
"It's more than we'd have if you didn't rush out there. Are you fucking hit?" I asked, seeing a splash of red on his neck.
"It's nothing," he said, shaking his head, trying to brush it off.
Before I could even move to check myself, McCoy was walking over, grabbing the neck of his shirt and yanking it wide.