Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“Missy didn’t like him,” I pointed out. When Julian had shown her the evidence, she hadn’t seemed surprised and admitted she never cared for him.
“There was something about him—something I didn’t trust,” she said. “He did all the right things, said all the right things, but he gave me the creeps.”
“She has good instincts, which are going to help her right now,” Julian stated. “You need to trust her.”
“I do,” I replied. I met his eyes. “I also love her, and the thought of her being even close to that lowlife makes me ill. Knowing he’ll have her is killing me, Julian.”
“I know. I realize that. But it has to happen. And we’ll have her out as fast as possible. We’ll know where she is. She’ll be tracked. She’ll have a weapon.” Julian’s expression was understanding but his voice firm. “She is ready. So are you—at least on one side. The truth is, you’ll never be ready. So I have to make the decision, and tomorrow is the day.”
I couldn’t respond. I wanted to protest, but he was right.
“We have backups. Missy is smart and capable,” he assured me.
I leaned forward, letting my fear and anger bleed through. “Unless she’s locked in a cage. Or worse,” I hissed.
“We’re not going to let that happen, Marcus.”
I sat back, the feeling in my chest heavy. Somehow, something in my gut told me it was out of our hands.
And I fucking hated that I was always right.
Chapter Twelve
Missy
Marcus disappeared midafternoon, not saying a word. He had been quiet since talking to Julian in the morning, not even giving me shit when I sat with Egan, who explained the intricacies of designing and wiring a bomb. I had to admit I felt a bit disappointed Marcus wasn’t there to stand over me, growling and snarling, ordering me upstairs and losing it when I refused. I sort of liked it when his dark eyes would snap fire and his sexy scowl came out. I also liked it when he slung me over his shoulder and carried me to where he wanted me like the caveman he was underneath the modern veneer. I always protested and demanded to be put down, but I liked how even when he was bristling like a porcupine, his hands were gentle and he always stroked my leg as he climbed the steps, muttering about, “Stubborn women who never listen.” I got a great view of his well-developed, firm ass, and I liked to grab on to it as we moved. He, in turn, would slap my butt, resting his free hand on it to keep me in place.
At times, his caveman routine led to another “talk,” and then he’d fuck me over the sofa, on the counter, or even against the door, before returning to the command center, leaving me blitzed and sated. I would have a short nap and sneak back downstairs.
It was just our thing.
But it didn’t happen today. After I finished talking to Egan, I spoke to Damien and Leo, who were still digging for more information. I felt restless and edgy—it seemed strange to be in the command center without Marcus.
“Where do you think he is?” I asked Damien.
He smiled. “Sometimes when he gets too much in his head, he’ll work out or spend time in his garden.”
“I prefer it when he cooks,” Leo said with a chuckle. “We all benefit then.”
“Did something happen today that set him off?”
“Not that I know. I’m sure he is just clearing his head.”
Leo grinned. “You wanna practice throwing your knife at my head?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No, I’m good.”
He stood. “I’m going to head home, then. Dawn wasn’t feeling overly well, and I want to check on her. Maybe pick up dinner so she doesn’t have to.”
Damien looked up with a smirk. “Home at four in the afternoon? And dinner? She’ll be so shocked she might go into early labor.”
Leo chuckled. “She would probably like that. She says she has no idea how she is going to make it another four weeks.”
With a wave, he departed, and I left Damien and Egan still working. I climbed the steps, not surprised to find the apartment filled with appetizing aromas. Marcus was in the kitchen, a white apron tied around his waist, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and he was busy dicing something on the chopping board, the knife moving swiftly in a continuous pattern. Strangely, I could toss a knife with deadly accuracy, but chopping vegetables wasn’t a forte of mine.
He glanced up with a smile. His hair was still damp, so I knew he’d worked out and showered before starting to cook. “I was wondering when you’d come find me,” he teased. “You can never stay away too long.”
I sniffed and slid onto one of the barstools he kept tucked under the counter. “You were hoping I’d leave you alone. Forget it, buddy, those days are over. You’re stuck with me.”