Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
I grab my phone and walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
“Grim, what’s up?”
“I’m in the hall,” he says, his tone like a butcher’s freezer. “You didn’t answer your damn phone, King, so I had to come over.”
“Sorry. I had it on silent.”
“I bet you did,” he says, the harshness easing some. “We need to talk. Now.”
“All right.” I run a hand over my face. “I’ll be out.”
I hang up, splash my face with cold water, and walk as quietly as I can back into the bedroom. I put on my briefs and slacks, not bothering with the sweater.
When I glance at the bed, Lennix has shifted, one berry-tipped breast visible over the sheet. My dick goes hard again. I’ve heard of grief sex, but damn. This is ridiculous. I could make love to her again and probably again before the sun rises. The need to be inside her is so elemental, I can’t distinguish it from the need to breathe or blink. She’s come so close to death twice, I need to know she’s alive. That’s the only way I can articulate it.
I close the bedroom door and walk into the sitting area. When I open the door, Grim stands in the hall, chatting with Rick. They both glance from my bare chest to my hair rumpled in all directions by Nix’s fingers, and it doesn’t take much to guess what I’ve been doing the past few hours. Hell, Rick probably heard us fucking. I can’t really care. I need her and I need him standing guard, both now more than ever.
I tip my head toward the suite. “Come on in.”
He looks past me, a brow cocked. “You sure? I don’t want to interrupt.”
I give him a wry look and turn away to walk inside. The door closes behind him, and I fall onto the couch, linking my hands behind my head. “What we got?” I ask him.
“He’s alive,” Grim says, jaw clenched. “Gregory’s alive.”
I’m not surprised. Even when all signs indicated he was dead, some instinct of self-preservation warned me he wasn’t. My greatest suspicion has also been my greatest fear—that he was behind Owen’s assassination.
For a moment, guilt tourniquets my throat, and I can’t breathe. If Gregory did this, I may as well have planted that bomb—may as well have murdered Owen myself. He’d be alive if not for this vendetta against me.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“He left a message for you.”
My eyes cut across the small space separating us, the width of the coffee table. “A message? What the hell do you mean?”
Grim shakes his head and barks out a brief, humorless laugh. “He left a message at your office to call him.”
“To call…the fuck?”
“He called CadeCo’s U.S. headquarters in New York and left an urgent message that your friend Abe was trying to reach you. They passed his number on to Jin Lei, probably thinking it was some prankster but wanting her to have it just in case. She recognized the name…well, the fake name, and called me.”
I hate him. I detest his flippancy and his complete disregard for human life.
“Jin Lei was at the funeral,” I say, realizing she and I barely got to speak. “She didn’t mention it.”
“She wouldn’t have said anything there, but she passed it on to me because she knew we’d have to address it. This is the last thing you should be dealing with on the day you had to bury your brother, but I’m afraid we can’t afford to wait.”
“He did this, Grim,” I say through caged teeth and tight lips. “He killed Owen. I know it.”
“If he did, that means he’s a lot more active and a lot closer than we’d expected.”
“And definitely not dead. I knew he wasn’t.”
“All signs pointed to—”
“I don’t care about signs, Grim.” I stand and pace, dragging my fingers through my hair. “I knew it in my gut.”
“Well, there was nothing we could do about it. Our antennae have been up, and we’ve been hunting, but there was no sign of him until now.”
“Now, after he’s killed my brother and left a fucking message at my office to brag about it.” I slam my fist into the nearest wall, denting it and sending pain shooting through my hand. “Son of a bitch.”
The bedroom door opens, and footsteps hurry up the short hall. Lennix appears, a silk robe barely covering her. The curve of her breast tantalizes me, and her robe gapes a little, revealing the sexy sliver of her collarbone. Her lips are kiss-swollen. Tiny red marks dot her slim throat, rising from the neckline. Her hair is silky and tumbled. She looks thoroughly fucked. I never want anyone else, not even Grim, whom I trust with my life, with hers, to see Lennix like this.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes widen, and she rushes over, grabs my hand, and frowns up at me. “You’ve hurt yourself. Let me get some ice to—”