Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Silence uncomfortably stretches between us for the next several minutes only ceasing when Wy defeatedly whines, “Tant find da hammahead.”
In unison, we lean over to aid in the process, trapping him in between us.
Allowing him to build a bridge.
Be the bridge that always brings us together.
Spotting the creature leads to me saying, “I see him, but I won’t show you where. I’ll just give you a hint.”
“Otay!”
“The other fish are hiding him.”
“Protecting,” Wes quietly argues, forcing my stare to gravitate back to him. “They’re only trying to protect their great hammerhead.”
“And their great hammerhead is grateful but they’re going to end up starving it, if they don’t give it a chance to hunt.”
The metaphor melts his entire figure. “Can the fish have a little more time to prepare for its departure?”
“How much more time, Wes?” Frustration floods my vocal cords folding me slightly forward. “I mean…do you really think the fish and his fish school friends are ever going to be okay with the hammerhead swimming away again? Near danger? In the same vicinity as danger? Or…” my head tilts unhappily to one side, “are the little fish hoping that if they keep the hammerhead hidden long enough, it’ll just give up and accept its unwanted fish prison?”
“Hammahead eat fishies,” Wy informs, although it seems to be to his book versus us.
My chin slightly kicks in his direction on a crooked grin. “Kid’s got a point.”
Wes struggles not to smile and nods his head. “He does.”
“Those fishies are gonna have to open that school or risk getting their heads ripped off during her forceful exit.”
“Give them a week.”
One eyebrow is arched in question.
“Give them one week from today to finish checking the waters.”
“One. Week.”
“Seven days.”
“You have seven days, Mr. Wilcox.” It’s my turn to fold my fingers together tightly in my lap. “Seven days until I return to being Mrs. Wilcox, head of her department at The Bower and Powell Aquatic Institute.”
Chapter 9
Brynley
“I’m going shopping,” I definitively announce upon my entering of Wes’s upstairs office where he’s meeting with my mom about the yearly estate financial plan. He barely has time to put down the shark pen he’s holding before I’m clarifying, “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”
A deep, displeased grumble is poorly hidden behind his gritted teeth.
You’d think I was announcing a month-long trip to Japan with the way he’s responding.
Which I’m not.
I’m not even leaving the fucking city.
Just the estate.
Without him.
“And I should probably tell you…” my frame leans over to place a loving peck onto Mom’s cheek, “you may wanna consider an increase to the fancy bush budget.”
“Topiary,” Wes casually corrects.
“Why?”
“Your grandson has taken to naming, feeding, watering, petting and giving them ‘haircuts’…” A tiny cringe is presented as I slide my palms into the back pockets of my ripped jeans. “Ultimately changing not only their shapes but life expectancies.”
Snickers precede her leaning back in her seat. “I’ll talk to the boss about it.”
The comment successfully gets my husband smiling.
Warmly.
Relaxed.
While I understand his paranoia – after all it was me that nearly died during what I imagine was a ransom kidnapping gone awry – I also would appreciate him understanding my aquarium fever.
I’ve been rescued.
Rehabilitated.
Time for the part where we release me back into the wild.
At the very least realize it’s time for me to test the waters.
He does his best to maintain the adoring expression as he shifts his focus to me. “Use my card. Take Hurst.” There’s no room for arguing. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”
Sassily smirking is attached to my frame swaying closer to his. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Phone?”
“No.” Wes rotates his chair to better face me. “Park is still in the process of changing your number, securing your line, and adding extra encryption measures for your data. While he was projected to be done by today, he encountered a minor setback courtesy of an unexpected lead he’s following.”
“About the letter that was sent to the hospital or the attack itself?”
“The letter.” Fidgeting with his pen is clearly done in uncertainty. “A couple of Jessie’s classmates were in or near the library at the time of its pickup, so he’s looking into those individuals. Verifying their whereabouts at the time of the attack. Any suspicious activity of their bank accounts. Having cyber comb through their social media to search for any indications they may have been part of a plan or plot that involved the kidnapping or ransoming of you or Wy or anything similar in their pasts that would imply they would be open to trying it again.”
“You think someone used their relationship or close proximity to Jessie to get to us?”
“I think right now Park having something is better than him having nothing.”
“Agreed,” Mom calls out from the other side of the desk.
“Use Hurst’s phone if you need me.” His shoulders do their best to untense once more. “I’ve got this budget meeting with Lauren, a brief employee evaluation with Zaidee, and a business brunch with J.T. and Faulk-”