Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“I want to know who killed her. I want to know if her baby survived. I want to know if her husband was involved and is raising this child that he shouldn’t have any part in.” She fisted her hands at her sides and glared at me.
The light from the lamp we were standing under made her eyes look defeated.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What guarantee do I have that, if I give you this information, you won’t use it against me?”
“You don’t,” she said. “But maybe you’ll feel better if you tell me.”
I didn’t bother to tell her that I wasn’t upset in any way that she didn’t know what I knew.
Her knowing would put her in danger.
Her knowing also gave her a level of trust that I’d never given anyone before in my life. Hell, not even my family knew what I’d done.
But there was no reason she couldn’t know that the baby was safe…
“Her daughter is safe,” I supplied. “She’s fine. I can promise you that.”
Her shoulders instantly wilted in relief.
Then she started heading toward her car.
But when she got to the doorless Jeep and hefted one shapely leg inside, she turned and caught my eyes. “Just answer me this…”
“If I can,” I offered.
“You’ll make him pay?”
I grinned then, loving the way that she didn’t shy away from me and my dark nature, even if she had no clue just how dark it was. “As you wish.”
The best version of me you’ll ever see is the me when I’m at Texas Roadhouse eating rolls.
—Brecken to JJ
BRECKEN
As you wish.
Those words were the first thing that popped into my head the moment I woke up in the morning. They’d been there for the last four days.
I’d asked someone who was dangerous to make a man pay for what he’d done to my friend, and I didn’t even feel guilty about it.
What did that say about me?
My phone pinged, and I blearily glanced at it.
The first thing I noticed was the time, which on a normal day would be fine.
But today, when I was supposed to be meeting JJ for coffee before school, was not.
I threw myself off the bed, landed on one foot off balanced, and nearly tripped over my shoes that I’d left there the night before.
“Shit, shit, fuck,” I howled as I went teetering sideways and landed on the ground.
I lay there on the floor for a few seconds while I allowed my equilibrium to come back to me, then rolled over, did a push-up, then a burpee to get off the floor.
Hurriedly I rushed through my morning routine, grabbing my workout bag, my partial lunch that I didn’t have time to finish, and my school bag.
I all but ran out the door and to my car, then rushed toward the coffee shop.
I only broke seven laws on the way, and I was thankful to find that I was only a few minutes later than I’d intended to be.
Even still, JJ was waiting on me at the door, her foot tapping impatiently.
If you were late, you were really late. If you were on time, you were late. If you were early, you were on time.
At least, that was how it worked in JJ’s world.
Too bad she had a family of perpetually late individuals.
She hated it.
And a lot of that had stemmed from our parents and their inability to get anywhere on time.
They’d passed that habit down to all of their children but one—JJ.
Which was good, because she was the only one that really needed to be anywhere on time.
I mean, technically, I did, too. But I lucked out for the last four years and have had an off-period first period for me to have a little cushion. Now I had class first period, so I was still adjusting.
“You’re late,” she said when I came flying out of my Jeep.
“I’m late,” I admitted. “I did the update on my iPhone last night, and apparently, the stupid phone has a setting that I wasn’t aware of—i.e., if your phone is on silent, your alarm is on silent, too.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She sighed. “You should use that old-fashioned alarm clock I got you for Christmas last year.”
The one that was still in the box in my closet.
Though, I wouldn’t be admitting that part.
“I might very well do it after today,” I admitted.
“Come on,” she said as she held the door open for me. “I’ve been up since four this morning dealing with a new calf thanks to McCoy begging and pleading for me to give her a night off, and I’m in desperate need of a coffee.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Shut up,” she snapped.
I hid my smile and followed her into the coffee shop.
We had a little over thirty minutes to chat before I was needed at school, and that meant that I also had time to order one of their freshly baked scones.