The Watcher (Men of Hidden Justice #4) Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Men of Hidden Justice Series by Melanie Moreland
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a furious pitch. “Why don’t you show a little gratitude instead of attitude, Raven? You have completely lost touch with reality. You think you can keep yourself safe, little girl? You can do better on your own than with me? Be my guest.”

I crossed my arms. “You are just as bad as he is. You want to take over my life.”

“So you’ve said before. You want your life back to what it was before you ran to me for help? Go for it. I’m sick of being your knight.”

I scoffed. “I never thought of you as a knight, Damien. Maybe the court jester.”

“You ungrateful little…” He trailed off.

“Bitch?” I finished for him. “You keep calling me that. I’m tired of your orders, your overbearing attitude, and your scowling face. I’m done.”

“Meaning?”

I glanced around, hoping I looked surprised and pleased to see the taxi idling at the curb not far from us.

“Like I said,” I snapped. “I’m done. Leave me alone.”

I turned, and he reached out, grabbing at my bag. The bunny tore off in his hand, and I half ran to the cab, bending at the window. “Are you available?”

“Yep,” she replied.

I slid into the back seat, but before I could shut the door, Damien was there.

“Don’t do this, Raven.”

I grabbed the door handle. “Leave me alone, Damien. I’ll send for my things.”

I slammed the door, looking back to see him throw down the bunny and stomp on it in his rage.

I sighed and leaned against the back seat.

“Address?” The “driver” prompted. I was surprised to see it was a woman. We had agreed to pretend until I was in my apartment, even though Damien’s person knew exactly where I was going.

“Ah,” I said, worried. But she winked and touched the rim of her glasses, a signal Damien had told me meant I could trust the person.

I gave it to her and shut my eyes.

I already missed Damien.

My apartment smelled musty. The window had been repaired, and there was dust everywhere. All the blinds were shut tight. Egan relaxed on my sofa, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Fine.” I sighed. “I hated every minute of it.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. It was needed. You both know it’s not true.” He stood. “But for the record, I have never been a mall cop.” He glared at me. “That was low.”

I began to laugh, and he grinned.

“You were listening?”

“No, Damien told me. You did good.”

I sat down. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“You have to act normal. Like you are angry. What would you normally do?”

“Clean the apartment.”

“Okay. You clean one room at a time. Open blinds, so if he is looking, he sees you. I will go in the other room.”

“Okay.” I stood. “Was Damien all right when you talked to him?”

He patted my arm. “No worries, girl. He knows, eh?”

I sighed, looking around the room. It felt strange to be back here. I had never loved the place, but it was my home. Or at least, I thought it was. It was odd how at home I felt at Damien’s. It felt right being there with him. Here, I felt like a stranger, even though the things around me were mine.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I answered Deb’s call, my melancholy evident in my voice.

“Hey, Deb.”

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t tell her, so I pretended. “Nothing. Just one of those days.”

“Ah, okay. So, Stew and I were wondering about doing dinner on Monday?”

“Oh.” I paused. “Can I call you back tomorrow to confirm?”

“Everything okay?”

“I just have to check with Damien.”

“Oh, you’re not with him?”

“No, I’m cleaning my apartment right now. He’s, ah, he’s busy today.”

“Okay. Call me later and confirm. Stewart has reservations at Rustic Alley for seven. If you can’t go, we’ll do another night.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

I hung up and shook my head. I was acting as if Damien and I had really had a fight. Broken up. I was being silly. I tossed my phone to the table, opened the blinds, and got to work.

My apartment gleamed, and my body ached. I looked around, satisfied. I had scrubbed every inch. Opened my windows with the music playing. Made sure I could be seen. Egan stayed in the next room, occasionally making a comment, but stayed busy with a sketchbook in his hand. Finally done, I closed the windows again, shutting the blinds, and turning on the small air conditioner. I showered, changed, and sat down. Egan was across from me, his head still bent over his work.

“What are you drawing?” I asked.

“Something for Damien.”

“Ah.”

I had discovered he was a man of few words.

“Are you hungry?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I could eat.”

“I don’t have much here, but we can order in.”

He nodded. “Soon.”

“Okay.”

He kept his eyes on the pad. “So, you are a woman.”


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