Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Still, she knew how I handled this kind of shit. I didn’t. Something was wrong, and she hadn’t cracked her code of silence after any of my various texts. My frustration bled through the messages the longer this act of rebellion carried on. Usually, a good dose of my cantankerous attitude would do the trick. Brighton didn’t like confrontation. She didn’t like anyone to worry. She was always so goddamned concerned about everybody but herself. Often, I could twist that in my favor, because… well, let’s be frank, a man such as myself needed her reassurances. But this time she wasn’t giving them. Cruel and unusual punishment, I’d say.
She’d know someone on my payroll was keeping an eye on her now. What did it matter? Brighton should know my M.O. Mick wasn’t just following her around for information. He was there to keep her safe. It was what I liked to call compromise. But I only had so much patience, and she’d just stretched it to the limit.
“Why didn’t you follow her inside?” I blared through the phone.
“She was onto me,” Mick rumbled. “You said not to get too close.”
“So you lost her completely?” My indignation was not well hidden.
“I thought you didn’t want me to scare her.”
Ah, touché, Mick. Pulling out that old fucking chestnut. No, I didn’t want him to scare her. And if she had any recollection of who he was, she probably would be scared.
“Not happy, Mick.” I rocked back in my chair and squinted at the bottle of Macallan across the room. I knew what I’d be doing as soon as this call was finished.
“I know, boss.”
“How many doctors are in that building?”
“A lot, sir.”
I could probably get her medical records. Eventually. But I’d need to know the doctor first. And if Brighton ever found out, she’d lay into me with a whole speech about ‘right and wrong.’ I hardly needed to supply extra reasons to hate me, so I’d put it on hold. For now.
“Oh, hang on. There’s something else, sir.”
I reached for the marble paperweight Brighton held in her hand on that first day, smoothing the pad of my finger over the inky blackness. If I didn’t know her so well, I would’ve wondered what it was that drew her to it.
“What is it?” I asked absently.
“That bar she was at yesterday?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I had a hunch, so I’ve been hanging around the place. And she just came back here.”
“With who?” I perked up.
“She’s by herself,” he said. “But she looks like she’s wearing a uniform.”
“A uniform?”
Oh, Jesus Christ, Brighton.
I was up out of my chair before I’d even fully processed his words. “Wait for me in the parking lot. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Chapter Six
Brighton
My first night at work was not going that great.
I kept messing up orders and forgetting everything. What Nicole affectionately deemed my ‘pregnancy brain’ was going to cost me my job if I wasn’t careful.
I knew David was already losing his patience with me. I kept apologizing, but he’d ended up having to comp two tables’ meals already. At this rate, I probably wouldn’t even have a paycheck.
I’d hoped to be eased into it, but the place was completely packed out. It was a little more overwhelming than I expected, and my feet were already killing me. But I plastered a smile on my face and told myself I could cry later when I was home in the safety of my bed.
“Hey!” Some guy in one of the booths snapped his fingers at me. “Where the hell is our food?”
Shit.
I glanced down at my pad of paper and realized I’d never put their order in. And this was the second time he’d asked me about it.
“It’ll be out soon.” I gave him a shaky smile. I was going to lose it any minute now.
“That’s what you said ten minutes ago,” he bellowed.
He was obviously drunk and very hungry. And now he was pissed at me. His dark eyes narrowed when I just stood there, unable to conjure up the words I needed.
“Are you retarded?” he barked. “Do you speak English? WHERE’S. MY. FUCKING. FOO…”
The moment the last syllable flew from his mouth, a fist slammed across his jaw. I stumbled backwards and bumped into a table when Ryland swung his gaze from the man he just punched back to me.
I had no idea where he’d even come from, or how the hell he knew I was here. But his eyes were glazed with ice and his voice deadly calm when he gestured towards me.
“Apologize to my girlfriend.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the guy in the booth cut me off as he stood up and slammed his palms against Ryland’s chest.
Ryland held his ground, looking scarier than I’d ever seen him- in a suit and tie no less. His face hadn’t been shaved in what looked like a week. Dark circles marred his normally beautiful eyes, and his jaw seemed more prominent than I remembered. And yet, his chest heaved with the force of adrenaline, like he was looking forward to pummeling this guy. Like he needed to purge himself of his darkness. I’d seen it happen a thousand times, but never in this way. He was solid and strong and completely unshakable.