Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 162567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
My dad taught me that.
“Can you send me the footage?” Akara rounds to the hood of the SUV now for privacy and to be out of eyeshot of the families.
Footage?
Apartment security at the penthouse?
I rake a coarse hand through my hair. Fuck. My mind travels to the Cinderella ad fiasco and the bare-naked perv that I caught about to jack off on Janie’s bed in the townhouse.
Let the good times roll in my fucked-up head.
Did someone break into the penthouse?
Muscles flex more. I’m feeling like tonight won’t be about decompressing. Taking a fuckin’ load off. It’s been a long two weeks, but Akara and I were more prepared for war than a vacation after the Olympics. And strangely, I think we’d prefer it this way.
We’re both cracked.
I hope Sulli knows that.
As she comes over to me, she smiles this soft, faraway smile.
“Must’ve been some conversation,” I say to Sulli as I sit on the opened trunk. The SUV sinks with my weight.
Sulli is more eyelevel. “It was. My uncle, he gave me this…” She digs in her jean’s pocket. “He said he never used them, but he thought it’s something I’d like since I keep chasing after medals.” She produces a green coin, a little bigger than a quarter. “For being two months sober.” Sulli passes me the coin.
My thumb runs over the 2 Months Recovery engraving, but mostly I can’t take my gaze off her. “You know how proud I am of you?”
Tears crest the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I’m proud of you too, Banks.”
In my head, cigarettes seem easier to kick than alcohol, but I’m not gonna downplay anything. Sulli won’t allow me to.
So I stand up and weave my arms around her athletic frame. “I love you a whole damn lot.”
She buries herself into my body. “I love you a whole fucking ton more.”
I kiss her head, and when we part, she’s digging in another pocket. I wonder if this is another gift from her sober sponsor. She has two of them.
Her dad and her uncle. But she went to Lo first after the frat party. She was afraid of disappointing her dad. She didn’t.
Admitting that she needed help—she made Ryke just as proud too.
“Oh I forgot.” She reveals two blank envelopes. “Uncle Lo said these are for you and Kits.”
I frown. “You sure it’s for me?” I’m thinking it has to be a check for security. Maybe the parents felt like Kitsuwon Securities extended their services to them.
“Yeah, he said, your boyfriends, Akara and Banks.” Her cheeks redden, embarrassed about something. “And he also fucking teased me about ‘putting rings on it’…and I stupidly asked, like proposals? And he said, no, I want you to go to Mordor and destroy the Ring.” She touches her forehead, flustered. “And I don’t know….that’s stupid, right?”
“Mordor or proposals?”
“Proposals. We can never really get married?”
I stiffen and sweep her head to toe. Marriage. Haven’t contemplated it for too long. Christ, I used to always take less. But now I just want to take more than anyone says I can be given. Two people to love.
A union.
A commitment of forever.
Why the hell not? Why can’t that be for us?
“I think,” I say as I’m thinking, “this is something we should talk about with Akara.”
“Where is Kits?”
Before I can answer, her mom shouts, “Caw-caw!”
Sulli whips her head and returns a, “Caw-caw!” Quickly, Sulli says to me, “I’m going to tell my mom goodbye. Then I’ll be back.”
I nod, and as Sulli leaves, I skirt around to the front of the SUV.
Akara is leaning on the hood and pinching the bridge of his nose. Phone still to his ear.
Mother of Christ, this is bad.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I start packing on armor.
“Yes, that’s my email…correct. I’ll be in touch,” Akara says, tensed. “Thanks.” He hangs up.
“Nine, talk to me.”
He pockets his phone and lets out a frustrated, distraught noise. Closing his eyes, he says, “The Jeep was stolen.”
Stolen.
Stolen.
Pressure wells in the back of my head. Thumping like a panic-induced migraine.
I couldn’t have heard him right.
“Say again.”
“That fudging Jeep is gone. Stolen. Robbed. How many synonyms do you want?”
“Fuck,” I curse hotly, gaze narrowing on her family. They’re blissfully unaware of their most prized possession gone. Booger…that Jeep—fuck.
Akara crouches at the tire, face in his hands. He’s a heartbeat from screaming, and I squat down to him, tucking my hair behind my ears. Trying to cool the fuck down for him. He’s going to take the brunt of this disaster on his shoulder.
I wanna pry some off.
“Maybe there’s a good explanation,” I start out.
Akara drops his hands, eyes bloodshot. “We know why they took the Jeep. It’s the most famous, recognizable vehicle.”
“But how the hell could a thief get through apartment security? That parking garage is like Fort Knox.” On the chance they entered, they’d have to find the right level and then break through a passcode-protected metal gate that stores everyone’s vehicles from the penthouse.