Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“You got custody of him?” I asked Shaw.
Shaw shook his head. “Konrad did.” I glanced at Konrad, who was sipping at his coffee. He just met my flat stare over the lid of his coffee cup. “We came to see if you wanted to come home.”
I looked back at Shaw, my muscles tightening. “No,” I told him immediately.
Konrad sighed, setting his coffee down with a calmness that was eerie—like the calm before a storm. “Cameron, we know you don’t have many options.” I glared at him. The fuck did he know? He went into the military—took the easy route out. I’d fought to get where I was. “It wasn’t hard to find out you had an eviction notice filed against you despite us sending money that you, apparently, refuse to touch.” The tight grip around the Styrofoam cup of coffee in my hand threatened to make it burst. “I know you’re down to your last dollar and that you’re not having any luck finding a job. You should come home with us.”
I snarled and shoved back from the table. I didn’t like being ambushed and this? This was a fucking ambush. Was that their plan? Corner me in a fucking coffee shop to make me bend to their will because they thought I wouldn’t make a scene? Newsflash for them—I didn’t give two single fucks about making a scene.
“All of you can go fuck yourselves,” I snarled, slamming my coffee down on the table so hard, the Styrofoam busted and steaming hot coffee spilled all over the table. They all jumped back. Other patrons were staring, but I didn’t give a single shit about any of them. “Don’t come here trying to make me feel like shit just to get what you goddamn want.”
Shaw grabbed my wrist, and I shoved him off. Konrad growled and gripped the front of my shirt, pulling me close. I glared at him, my hands shaking. “Don’t be a fucking dick, Cam.”
“Me? Be a dick?” I sneered. “You’re the ones who came here belittling me about my fucking situation to try to make me fall in line. I’m not one of your pussy ass soldiers, Konrad.”
His glare was so cold, it probably should’ve killed me. Instead, I met his glare with one of my own, neither of us backing down.
Not until Ace tentatively wrapped his long, slender fingers around my wrist. I looked over at him, my cold gaze never falling. He sighed. “Cam, please come home,” he softly begged. “Please.”
I stared at him for a moment before looking at Konrad, using my free hand to knock his hand aside. When he didn’t budge, I growled, “Fucking let go of me.” When he did, I stepped back. Ace still kept his fingers locked around my wrist. It was as if he knew he was the only reason I wasn’t flipping a table and throwing a chair at Konrad and Shaw. I pointed a finger at Konrad. “I’ll come home. For Ace,” I told him. “But if you and Shaw ever try to fucking manipulate me again, I’ll fuck you both up.”
Konrad opened his mouth, fury flashing in his eyes, but Shaw gripped his shoulder, nodding once at me. “Okay,” Shaw told me.
Ace released me, and I straightened out my shirt before glowering at the two men in front of me. “Text me the address. I’ll get there on my own fucking time.”
With that, I marched out of the coffee shop, wishing I could’ve slammed the fucking door behind me and that it wasn’t controlled by a hydraulic arm.
CHAPTER ONE
Cameron
Iscrawled the total for Shaw’s office expenses at the end of the column, a headache beginning to pulse at my temples. When I’d announced I was heading to InkLore this morning to work on Shaw’s books, Ace had asked if he could come since he needed to work on some sketches anyway. I hadn’t thought it would be an issue.
I was fucking wrong.
“I wish Shaw had some cookies or something in here,” Ace grumbled from his sprawled position across the rug in front of Shaw’s desk. He was lying on his stomach, his feet in the air swinging back and forth. His gaze was focused on his tablet, and his hand was sweeping across the screen, but it was damn clear his mind was elsewhere despite his hand furiously working on whatever custom design Shaw had asked him to draw.
“I wish you’d stop grumbling,” I muttered as I focused back on the book in front of me, wishing I had some painkillers with me.
“We’ve been here for three hours, Cam,” Ace griped. “I’m hungry. Wasting away. Feed me.”
I rubbed at my forehead. “Ace, you have money,” I reminded him, exasperated. Ace may be eighteen, but he acted like a child. “Walk to one of the fast food places and get food yourself.”