Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I appreciate it, but no thank you, Jess.” Dana tossed his napkin into his empty plate. He waved to the server for the check since Jessica appeared to be finished with her food.
“Oh, wait. I wanted another glass of wine. It’s been a day, sweetie.”
“I’m ready to go, Jess. It’s been a fucked-up day for me too, ya know.” Not that you asked. “I wrestled with a three-hundred-pound man today. I’m really tired.” Dana turned his mug up to down his last gulp when he was hit hard in the center of his back by a hand heavy enough to leave a bruise. Most of his beer flew out his mouth from the surprise impact, jerking him forward so hard the table rattled. Jessica gasped, her eyes lurching upwards at the hulking figure behind him. Dana knew who the fuck it was.
“My fault. Just wanted to say bye,” Ford grumbled. He clamped his thick hand down on Dana’s shoulder and squeezed, but Dana didn’t give him the satisfaction of the pained grunt that threatened to escape his clenched mouth. “You two have a good night.”
Ford walked away, Brian right behind him. Brian gave Dana a quick nod and kept moving. The few people gathered near the door hurried out of their path. One guy even stopped to hold open the door for them.
“Well that was childish and uncalled for,” Jessica said, looking repulsed and offended. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
“Of course, I’m fine.” Dana kept his growl low. He wiped the beer off his chin with the back of his hand, glaring at Ford’s broad back. Motherfucker.
Ford
“Brian,” Ford called out before his brother could get out of his truck. He saw the look of exasperation cross his face, but Ford didn’t care. “I want you to go back to the therapist. I’m calling tomorrow to schedule you another appointment, don’t—”
“I can make it myself.” Brian signed angrily.
“Fine,” Ford snapped. “I’ll be here at seven.”
“I’ll drive myself or ride with Dana.” Brian got out of the truck and jogged up to his small duplex. He watched his brother wave to his nosy neighbor before unlocking his door and going inside.
Ford scrubbed his hand over his short hair. He knew he was being rough on Brian but he also knew his brother had the mental strength to beat this disability. It was going on five years since he’d spoken. They’d had countless tests and evaluations done by some of the best doctors in the country and all of them said the same thing. Without using their complex medical jargon – in nutshell – Brian would speak again when he put his mind to it. Ford drove the eight minutes to his own one-story home just a few blocks from Brian’s. When his brother forced him to move out two years after they were back stateside, he probably wasn’t expecting his big brother to move right around the corner from him. Ford couldn’t help it. Even at forty-six years old, he still had a familial urge to stay close to his baby brother, just in case he needed him again.
His brother was ex-Special Warfare, just like him. He didn’t need anyone to fight for him. But Ford had always been the big brother and carried himself as such. When Brian joined the Navy, Ford was able to pull back and let his brother stretch his wings. Give him the freedom and space he needed to become his own man. But when Brian was captured by extremists in a foreign land, those overprotective feelings within Ford surged back to the surface and burned through him with a vengeance.
Ford killed the powerful diesel engine in his RAM 2500 and strolled up the dark driveway. He didn’t like security lights or a bright porch. His senses were finely tuned enough to sense anyone’s presence. He could move easily in the dark and he knew his property. When he went inside he didn’t bother turning on the living room light. He went straight to his bedroom and began removing his clothes. He tossed his black jeans into the pile with the rest of his laundry. Most of his wardrobe consisted of black shirts, dark jeans, or fatigues. He’d been on surveillance for the past couple weeks, and Duke typically preferred that they be ready at all times to blend into the shadows.
The steaming shower was exactly what he needed and he let the hot stream massage the knots in the back of his neck. Lately his brother hadn’t been the only one short on patience. Ford didn’t know why seeing Dana at the restaurant irked his nerves. Damn, couldn’t he get away from him? He was always there. Yes, he worked with him. But for some reason, Duke thought they complimented each other. Dana was a marksman. Ford was a scout and specialist in close quarter combat… that wasn’t a compliment. In the Navy, scouts and snipers worked hand in hand, but that kind of discipline wasn’t ingrained in Dana. Ford was about his business and his brother. Dana was about chasing the next skirt first, then work. Seeing him with that silly woman again really got under his skin. Ford had heard Dana talking with Duke’s partner, Vaughan, about the way she’d treated him before their last breakup. What kind of man would tolerate that? Ford didn’t consider Dana weak, he’d proven himself many times over the few years he’d been employed by Duke, but he had a hard time understanding why men put up with some of the antics their rude girlfriends dished out… just for some ass at night.