Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Heel.” I said in a quiet voice.
Alpha immediately quieted and returned to my side to lean into me. He threw me off balance, and a shaft of pain barreled through me, but I gritted my teeth and bared it because I didn’t want to let on that I was more hurt than I looked.
“Let’s get this shit over with.” My dad said as he walked up to my mom who was still on her knees.
He helped her up tenderly, and threw his arm around her shoulder guiding her along. Bennett followed, and Max, Alpha and I took up the rear.
“Meet you there, son.” Dad said as he helped my mom into their car.
I nodded, and continued to walk with Max in silence except for Alpha’s claws clicking against the concrete.
Max stopped me as we got to the passenger door of his truck. “How bad are you hurt?”
“Not that bad, I’m going to be sore for a while though.” I grimaced.
He nodded, but I knew it wouldn’t be the end of it. He helped me into the car, as well as Alpha, before getting in on his side. Paper crinkling distracted him, and he lifted his butt up from the seat and withdrew a yellow note.
“What’s that?” I asked curiously.
“No clue.” He said as he opened it.
As he read the note, his face tightened in an unreadable mask. “What?”
“Nothing.” He said as he folded the note carefully, and then stuck it down into the little holder on the door.
“Max…” I started to say.
“Don’t. Not yet.” He snapped.
I shut my mouth. He’s never yelled at me before. Hell, I’ve never even seen him anything but slightly upset. Seeing this side of him scared the crap out of me. He was shut off. No emotions. He didn’t even look furious anymore. Just blank.
“I love you.” I whispered to him into the darkness.
I didn’t get a reply back.
Chapter 10
I don’t need anger management classes. You need “Shut the fuck up” classes.
-E-card
Max
“Take it easy, man. You’re gonna rebreak it.” James said panting beside me.
I ignored him. It’d been two weeks since the fight at the football game, and I still didn’t know what the hell to do. I knew Payton thought I was mad at her, but I just couldn’t figure out what to do.
James blocked my right hook, and countered with his own. He landed it solidly on the base of my ribcage, and I went with the punch, using the momentum to kick out with my right leg. I made contact with the pad that covered his left forearm, and stopped as he went down.
“Jesus. This is only sparring, douche bag.” James grumbled while shaking out his hand. “If I’d known you came in kill mode, I would have found myself something else to do.”
I didn’t take his complaining seriously, though. We both had those days where nothing worked except going at it one on one in the gym. Beating the shit out of each other until one of us went down. Most of the time it was me, but today I had a feeling it would be him. We were evenly matched in the strength department, but where I excelled in speed, he excelled in strategy. He could tell what I was about to do before I even did it. It’d been nearly two years since we’d gone at it like this, but today we would be remedying that.
“Just stay away from my face. I don’t want Janie crying when she sees me.” James demanded.
I nodded in agreement. Couldn’t have the kids crying. Check. “Got it. Keep those knees away from my junk. No slips like last time.”
We both knew he didn’t slip, but all’s fair in war and war. You do what you have to do to survive. Take every low blow you can think of. Kick them while they’re down. Unfair in your book means survival in mine.
I faked a jab with my right before following through with a hooking left. My fist glanced off the side of his jaw because he anticipated the move. What he didn’t anticipate was me sweeping his knees out from under him. I wanted him on the floor though. I was a grappler. I did my best work on the ground.
“What’s your next move?” James asked slightly winded.
I tried to get him into an arm bar, but he countered, and I found myself nearly in one of my own. I didn’t pretend to misunderstand what he was talking about. The reason we were here in the first place was that my anger was getting the better of me. Ember told me I needed to stop being such an “ass muncher” (her words, not mine) and sent me here. James arrived a few minutes later with the directive to get my shit straightened or Ember and Payton were leaving for the weekend.
That sure as fuck wasn’t going to happen with the newest threat. “I called Layne, but he’s got nothing. They thought she was dead. They’re investigating, but can’t do much from the other side of the world.”
I was at a total loss. How do you find a ghost? The law enforcement connections I had showed that she was never even alive, which isn’t surprising for a CIA spook. The only thing I was able to do was put a man on her. Payton knew that something was up, yet I didn’t want to alarm her. This was bad. Someone trained in practically everything was gunning for her.
The note I’d sat on after the football game confirmed my suspicions after the fire.
After the body was found in Payton’s bedroom, burned beyond recognition, we knew that there was an extra person. Someone wouldn’t be able to bar the damn door shut from the outside while burning to death on the inside. ‘Bitch’ had been keyed into the paint of the hood on Payton’s car. Keying of the car had ‘woman’ written all over it.
Men didn’t bother with stupid shit like that. We leaned towards taking a 4X4 to it instead. Men also leaned to plain fighting. If we were pissed about something, we just had it out. James and I have had more than a few rows. We were pissed, we fought, we resolved it, and we had a beer. That simple.