Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Markovich could really be a bore to work for sometimes.
It had been a few days since he’d been home, and he hadn’t needed to check his messages.
Grabbing one of his many phones, he started checking through his voicemail messages as he ran his eyes over his cameras.
“Boring. Boring. Boring. Why would I want to kill him? Nope. Not taking that job. Seriously. Why does no one want something interesting done?” he muttered as he worked through them all.
The only way people could get his number was from a former client. But it seemed some of his clients were giving out the number to anyone. Maybe he should get rid of his former clients.
“Problem solved.”
He was stretched a bit thin at the moment. And he really needed to check in on his Bunny.
Moving to her camera feed, he frowned when he didn’t find her in the living room or her bedroom. Where was she?
He hit the feed for the bathroom.
Yes, he had a camera in her bathroom. Safety trumped any need for privacy.
Alarm filled him as he spotted her lying on the bathroom floor.
What the fuck?
He jumped up so quickly that his chair went flying back. Why was she lying on the floor? Had she hurt herself? Was she ill?
Studying the image more closely, his heart pounded as he remained outwardly cool. He was used to stressful situations.
But this . . . this was different.
This was his girl. The one person he was meant to keep safe in this world. And she was hurt.
Was that a bottle of alcohol next to her? Had she been drinking? But she rarely drank. Just an occasional glass of cream liqueur or wine.
Why wasn’t she moving?
He grabbed his main phone and raced out of his den toward the garage. Each of his cars was packed with all the equipment he needed for emergencies.
It crossed his mind to call Brody. Or even an ambulance. But he didn’t want strangers touching his girl.
And wherever Brody was . . . he better have a good reason for not being with her.
Fuck. He couldn’t blame Brody. This was his doing. He should have taken her to his den a long time ago. Sure, she might have found it hard to cope, but at least she’d be fucking safe!
The Fox reached her place in record time. He wanted to park in her driveway and race into her house. But he forced himself to go in stealthily. There was a park a block over, where he left his car. He drew on a dark hoodie, although he hadn’t taken off his last disguise yet, so he wasn’t too worried about his appearance.
But you can never be too careful.
He wasn’t going in like this for just his benefit. Mostly, it was for her protection. He had enemies. And he was still in the middle of a job.
He never left a job unfinished.
By now, he was at the back of her house. He had a key so he didn’t have to break in. The alarm beeped. She was religious about setting the alarm, which he was grateful for. Although, when he thought of the reason why, it infuriated him.
After setting the alarm again, he moved swiftly into the bathroom.
His heart was pounding with fear. But when he glanced into the mirror briefly, he looked as calm as always.
A product of the way he’d been raised.
Never show weakness.
And he hadn’t ever had a weakness . . . not until meeting Sunny.
But what he felt for her was very different from what he felt for the girl lying on the floor. It was even different than what he felt for the Pup.
Crouching, he felt for a pulse.
Steady.
She was breathing.
And yep, that was a bottle of booze off to the side. He picked it up. It was mostly empty. Surely, she hadn’t drunk all of this tonight? It would explain her state, though. Had she passed out drunk?
He started checking her over, looking for any sign that she’d hit her head or hurt herself, but he couldn’t find any.
No blood.
Thank fuck.
It had to be too much alcohol. She was going to regret that in the morning. He winced at the thought. The Fox had only gotten drunk once in his life. He’d poured booze down his throat and . . .
No.
He pushed that memory to the back of his mind. Things like that were better off left in the past. This was the present.
Why had she decided to drink tonight? Had something happened?
He slid her gently onto her back so he could lift her up.
She mumbled something. “Brody . . . meanie . . . give up . . . me . . . dirty pants.”
Brody was mean and she had dirty pants?
What the hell?
“Baby?” he asked gently. “What’s going on?”
“Messy . . . clothes . . . house . . . me no go.”