Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
He lay on his side, his muscled arms holding the pillow beneath his head. The sheet had slipped down so I got a good view of his muscular back, the angles and cuts of his lean hips, and a tantalizing tease of the beginning of his ass.
God, I loved him. I loved all of him. My man who shouldered so much of our world.
But this time, I would shoulder some of the weight for him, starting with our seventeen-year-old daughter. I got dressed and grabbed my phone, and the first text stopped me in my tracks.
Heather: Zeke Allen spent the night in the hospital because he’s got a freaking knife wound to the stomach. Wtf?? You wanted us to keep his wife busy last night. Tell me we did not have something to do with this.
32
MADDY
Iwas in a twisted version of Groundhog’s Day. I kept messing up.
Me: I messed up SO BAD last night.
I know I’m supposed to leave you alone for another day, but Max. MAX! I’m drowning here.
I’m hungover. I’m not really drowning. I did it to myself, but you weren’t there. Where were you?
Obviously I know where you were. But still, where were you? You’re my conscience. I can’t handle this silence. I’ve already gotten into so much trouble. If you’d been talking to me, I would’ve stayed home and hung out with you. Mom and Dad would’ve been fine with me having you over, and you wouldn’t have wanted to go, so I never would’ve gone. That makes this your fault in my head. I need you.
It’s not your fault. Obviously it’s mine.
Why are you not answering me?
Oh. Wait. I forgot to hit send.
Send.
Me: OH. LOLOL
Max: What
Max: The
Max: FUCK?
Me: I think I’m still drunk.
33
MASON
Ihad to look again, but the reports weren’t wrong. My father’s business was doing just fine. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! That meant he was fed a bunch of bullshit. He killed himself because of some bullshit fucking lie. I was inclined to believe Kai Bennett, which meant we had an enemy with no face and no name, and right now, I had no idea the reason for why this all happened.
I sent a text to my private investigator.
Me: I need you to pivot in whatever you’re finding or not finding on Kai Bennett. He came to me himself, told me he’s not trying to force his way into this company. I’m inclined to believe him.
Lael: What the hell???? You have time for a call?
Me: No. Send whatever you do or don’t have. I don’t want our time wasted looking one way when we should be looking somewhere else. My dad believed that Kai Bennett was coming after him. We need to find out why he believed that.
Lael: That means I’ll need to investigate your father.
Me: Do it.
Lael: Okay. I’ll send one of my colleagues with the Bennett file. What I do have, I only trust that it’ll get to you in person. I’ll change my focus.
Lael: Are you okay? I’ve seen Kai Bennett in person. He’s… Just, are you okay?
Me: I’m fine. I’ll be better when I know who killed my dad.
Lael: Got it. On it.
My phone buzzed a second later. It was the main lobby receptionist.
“A Zeke Allen is here to see you,” she said when I answered. “He does not have an appointment, but he’s insisting that you’ll see him. Should I send him up?”
I wasn’t even surprised. That’s what I would’ve done in his position. “Send him up.”
“Yes, Mr. Kade.”
Mr. Kade. I’d been called that a few times, mostly by Maddy’s friends. News reporters used my first name. Coaches called me Kade or Mason. Mr. Kade, though, that was my father.
I swallowed tightly at the memories.
Logan: Heads up, Taylor and I talked. It feels too chaotic for me to leave, so I’m staying. She postponed our flight. Sammy’s going to stay here since he’s attached to David’s hip. Taylor’s due a ton of vacation, so she’s going to take it early, extend it hopefully to when she’s due, and then she can switch to maternity leave. Hoping we’ll have things figured out by then on the home front.
Me: What about your firm?
Logan: I booted some of my cases to associates. Everything else I can do here. Just feels right staying.
Me: Thanks, brother.
Logan: Don’t need to thank me. You’ve done it for me. Love you, brother.
Channing: We need to have a serious talk. It’s getting hard to cover your back when I’m getting questions from all over and I don’t know what to say. Why are you setting up a fight night with the Red Demons’s Frisco charter? Do you know anything about Zeke Allen suffering a knife wound to the gut and looking like he was tortured? Samantha asked Heather to keep Zeke’s wife out with them last night. Ava’s a sweet girl, but she’s not someone Sam usually seeks out. Optics don’t look good. What the fuck are you doing?