Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
"You still haven't called Brady," Finn snaps as soon as I have the phone to my ear.
"Nope, I haven't."
"Goddammit, Roman," he curses. "Do you ever fucking follow orders?"
"You know I do." I grind my teeth together. For ten years, I've followed Finn's orders, doing everything humanly possible to help close cases. It pisses me off that he's questioning me now. I do my fucking job, and I don't complain. But I'm not calling Brady.
Finn rattles off a string of curses.
"What the fuck is up with you?" I demand. He's on edge and more pissy than usual.
He curses again, a rough growl of sound. "We have a situation.”
His words hit me like a blast of icy wind, sharp and deadly. My heart lurches in my chest as I push off the counter, fear twisting through my veins like a wildfire.
Mila is here, asleep in my bed. If Jose Guerrero finds me here, if he finds her here...fuck. I can't even finish the thought without a wave of overwhelming panic crashing over me.
"Tell me," I demand, gripping the phone so tightly that it feels like it might shatter.
"Some of Guerrero's people in Seattle blew up a club with a DEA agent inside. They were using the club to create some new drug."
Panic begins to recede, giving way to searing anger. My grip on the phone loosens.
"They were able to round up most of those involved, but another agent was shot in the process. From what we know, at least one subject with connections directly to Guerrero got away. He's on the run with what could be millions worth of some new drug they concocted."
"Jesus Christ," I swear, stunned. The last thing anyone needs is some new drug in his hands. With that kind of leverage, he could corner the market on the drug trade, not just in Mexico and the United States, but everywhere. This is why they wanted the fucking guns. This is what they've been doing. And we were looking in the wrong place all along.
"How the fuck didn't we know this?" I growl into the phone, frustrated.
"They weren't aware of the connection until recently."
"Fuck me. It's too early for this shit."
"Yeah, well, had you called Brady like I fucking told you to do, you would have known about this yesterday," Finn says, still pissy about it.
"Are you calling me in?" I ask instead of taking that bait. As far as I'm concerned, it's the only important question right now.
A week ago, I would have welcomed him telling me to get back to Los Angeles. A week ago, I was looking for any excuse to get the fuck out of here, away from temptation. Now though? I'm not ready to go back to work.
I'm not ready to leave Mila.
Finn hesitates for a long moment and then sighs. "No," he says, sending relief through me is a soft rush. "We're going to sweep up as many of them as we can and pray like hell we slow them down. There's no reason for you to come back."
He doesn't say the word yet, but I hear it anyway. I know how this works. If that drug makes it to Guerrero, it's going to be an all-hands-on-deck situation. I won't have a choice but to go back because we can't afford for him to gain any ground, and he will do whatever it takes to keep that drug under his control. Even if he has to start a war to do it.
I stopped praying a long time ago, but the urge hits hard and fast, throwing me off balance. Only, I don't pray to slow them down or stop that war. No, I'm fucking begging God that I won't have to leave Mila sooner than planned. Because that? That's what's tearing me apart. Leaving her behind.
My entire adult life, I've been focused on my job. I sacrificed everything for it. But I've had Mila in my bed for a handful of days, and suddenly nothing else seems to matter.
She's unraveling me, obliterating me piece by piece, and God help us both, but I don't want her to stop.
When she comes downstairs a few minutes later, I'm still standing in front of the coffee pot, staring out at the beach. My mind runs a thousand miles a minute, but I know the second she walks into the room. Tense knots loosen all over my body, and my dick turns to steel.
"Hey." She wraps her arms around me from behind, resting her head against my back.
"Morning," I mumble, grabbing her hand and tugging until she's in front of me, trapped between my body and the cabinet.
She tilts her face up to me, smiling softly.
God, she's beautiful. She's wearing one of my T-shirts again, her legs bare. Her hair is still a mess, as if she didn't bother trying to tame it after crawling out of bed. Her green eyes are bright, and her cheeks are flushed.