Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“These files were sent to my email last night.” The room fell silent as I continued, “I believe they came from David Bruton, a man many of you know as the high school history teacher.”
“Come again?” Diesel snapped.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”
I turned to the computer screen mounted on the wall and pulled up the information I’d collected on Bruton, including how I’d discovered that he was actually Carl Davenport. The guys never said a word. They simply sat there in complete bewilderment as I told them how he once worked for Interpol and how his cases provided him with connections to some very powerful men.
“If he has these kinds of connections, what does he want with us?” Maverick asked. “And why now? What’s changed over the past forty years?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out,” I admitted. “I’m hoping his grandson will have some answers for us. Stitch and Wrath are out looking for him now.”
“And what are you expecting us to do until then?” Smokey was known for being calm and rational, especially since he married MJ, but he sounded neither calm nor rational as he snarled, “’Cause I’m not just gonna sit here and wait for this motherfucker to come after my ol’ lady and kids.”
“I understand your frustration. Hell, I’m frustrated, too.” The tension in the room was crackling around me, causing the knot in my stomach to grow tighter. I felt like I was teetering on the edge as I told him, “But we don’t know what kind of manpower this guy has got. It could just be him and a couple of guys, or he could have a whole fucking army. We don’t need to make a move until we know more, and we won’t know more until we get our hands on the grandson.”
A war was brewing.
And I feared it would bring a battle like we’d never seen before.
CHAPTER 15
Elsie
I thought I was dreaming, that I hadn’t really felt the bed dip as Wyatt slipped into bed next to me. I thought the scent of his cologne and the rough bristles of his day-old beard against my neck were just figments of my imagination. It wasn’t until I felt the warmth of his hand trail up my thigh that I realized it was really him. My breath caught as his fingers curled around the band of my panties and pulled them down over my hips. “Wyatt?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, his hands reached for the hem of my nightgown and gently pulled it over my head. I wanted to protest and force him to talk to me, but it felt so good to have him so close. I’d missed him. I’d missed his touch and his mouth against my skin, and I just couldn’t tell him to stop. He settled himself between my legs, then brushed his tongue roughly against me, causing my back to arch against the mattress.
I knew something was wrong. I could see it in his eyes, but he refused to speak. I wanted him to know that he could open up to me, so I tried once again. “Wyatt, is something wrong? Talk to me.”
Giving no response whatsoever, he continued to torment me with his mouth. There was something different about the way he touched me. It wasn’t his usual sensual caress. It was rough and demanding like a man possessed, and while it felt incredible, there was something off about it.
I tried to resist. I didn’t want to come when he was being so cold and distant, but the second his warm, wet mouth pressed against me, I was unable to hold back. Every nerve in my body started to tingle, and just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, his fingers delved inside me, twisting and turning as he dragged them across my g-spot. Jolts of pleasure surged through me as he brought me to the edge, making it impossible to resist.
My hands dropped to his head, my fingers tangling in his hair as that familiar tingling sensation began to churn in my abdomen. I clamped down around his fingers as my release ripped through me, leaving me in a complete daze.
I was still trying to gather my senses when Wyatt started to unbuckle his belt. Hoping to draw his attention, I whispered, “Wyatt.”
He didn’t answer, so I said his name again, louder this time. “Wyatt.”
When he still didn’t answer, I quickly sat up and scooted out of his reach, tugging the covers up to my chest. His eyes narrowed with a mix of anger and confusion. I quickly shook my head and told him, “No, Wyatt. Not like this.”
“What?”
“Not like this,” I repeated. “You’re not talking to me. It’s like you don’t even know it’s me...”
He didn’t respond, and it hurt my feelings even more.