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)
I can do this.
I can be this.
I can live the life I love, with those I love, doing what I love and no one is going to stop me.
Chapter 18
Brynley
“Midnight, Bryn,” my husband grunts from the other end of the phone. “It is fucking midnight.”
“I thought it was ten.”
“Brynley.”
“We’re on our way home,” I bite back at the same time I rest the side of my head against the back passenger window. “We just crossed into the city limits. We’ll be home within the hour.”
“I want you here immediately.”
“I will find a way to make it within two if you keep this shit up.”
“I’m serious, Brynley.”
“And so am I, Weston.”
“I’m taking the most direct route possible, Wilcox,” Lurch announces from the driver’s seat. “We hit a bit of construction leaving South Haven and have seemed to hit a little now that we’re back in Highland. That – along with the rain – have been the primary causes of our delays.”
He said primary causes.
Not only cause.
Me having one too many mojitos is definitely on the list.
And me starving is about to be on it too.
“Thank Hurst for the appropriate update,” he demands in such a way that my slightly tipsy brain can’t resist the instinct to increase his irritation.
“He says ‘you’re welcome to make a stop for food’,” I blatantly lie.
“Straight home!”
“He says ‘not to bring the missus back hangry’.”
“We have food here!”
“He says-”
“To stop speaking for me!”
“Then you stop thinking for me.” Abruptly hanging up precedes Lurch exiting onto the access road to avoid having to take the one lane on the highway. “Lurch-”
“I am not stopping for you to have midnight taco.”
“What about a burger?”
“No.”
“What about a ‘sando’ as Jenni would say.” I fold my frame forward to be wedged between the seats as we arrive at the stoplight. “We can grab a couple from Mo Mo’s. They make the most incredible fucking melted PBJs.”
“I’m with Wilcox in that fight. Grilled cheese is superior.”
“You said something flunk out of Star Fleet stupid, but luckily for you,” a tiny poke to his bicep is delivered, “I am willing to give you a second chance to pass this non-Kobayashi Maru level of test.”
He lets his amused gaze drop to mine. “Grilled cheese is superior.”
“Be like Kirk. Hack the system.”
Small chortles leave him prior to his attention floating back to the front where the light is turning green.
“Can we stop for an apple then?!” my juvenile whining gets us both laughing louder. “I promise to eat it smugly in front of Wes just like Kirk did Sp-”
The end of the sentence is unexpectedly cut off due to an SUV of a similar make and model running their red light, clipping the front tire of our vehicle. I’m thankfully thrown backward rather than forward as we spin around and around in the vacant intersection heading straight for a collision with the underpass wall.
Airbags don’t deploy, which takes me by surprise, but before I can question that or how the fuck we were hit, the sound of what I imagine is the other vehicle returning for a second-strike wrenches away the opportunity.
“Out!” Lurch barks over his shoulder at me. “Now!”
I quickly reach for the handle to attempt an exit, only to be met by resistance, most likely from the damaged frame.
“Out! Out! Out!”
Panic immediately settles in, pushes me to ram my shoulder into it harder and harder and harder, hoping it’ll budge, praying it’ll loosen just enough to free me, yet it remains completely unmoved, leaving me no choice but to brace myself for the attack.
This time the SUV crashes into us from behind, successfully smashing us into the very wall we previously missed.
Crunching noises precede cries of pain as ruthless rainstorms of shattered glass coat my trapped security guard.
“Hursttttt!” leaves my tightening chest as I fight through the aches to crawl through the wreckage for him. “Say something!” I demand while brushing away shards to properly check his pulse. “Anything!” Blood begins to dribble down his forehead, heading straight for my two fingers that are frantically poking around, desperately searching for a pulse. “Stay with me!” Sob filled screeches echo around what’s left of the sardine can we once called our SUV while sounds from the other vehicle fade into the night. “Please don’t die!”
Chapter 19
Wes
Brynley struggles not to groan while adjusting on the gray leather couch I know Park’s been sleeping on since the first incident.
The man – like I used to – prefers to be working rather than not.
I’ve offered multiple times to build him a bedroom add on to this soundproof space he refers to as “the war room” yet he’s always refused.
Fears that the second I do, it’ll seal his worst fear.
That he’ll never have a life outside of what he does.
It’s a valid concern.
One that can be thoroughly discussed after he successfully does his fucking job and figures out exactly who put one of my family members in surgery and gave my wife new bruises, she didn’t fucking need.