Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
His agitation—and his blood pressure—ratcheted up.
Cutter met his probing stare. One-Mile glared, trying not to resent the guy…but failed. It wasn’t Bryant’s fault that he was free to spend most of his time with Brea while One-Mile had to hide in the hole he’d dug for himself that was looking more and more like a grave.
Bryant’s contempt flared back at him from across the room as if he’d sent it via flamethrower. So much for their truce. Sure, they’d come to an understanding last month that Brea and her safety mattered above all else…but that didn’t mean they would ever be pals.
The one thing that saved One-Mile’s sanity? Cutter didn’t appear worried, look guilty, or seem as if he was in mourning. Hopefully that meant Brea was all right, simply absent for some benign reason. But he intended to find out pronto.
Before he could cross the room to interrogate the SOB, Logan’s wife, Tara, and Callie Mackenzie appeared in front of him with cautious smiles, as if they worried he might bare his teeth and attack.
“Welcome, Mr. Walker.” The brunette flashed him her hostess smile, blue eyes bright with welcome.
He didn’t really believe it, but he gave her points for trying. “Thank you, Mrs. Mackenzie.” He glanced at Logan’s pretty redheaded wife. “Mrs. Edgington.”
“Glad you could make it,” Tara said.
Despite that whopping lie and what he suspected was their disquiet at being so near him, Callie threaded her arm through his. Instantly, he felt daggers in his back, and they weren’t Cutter’s. A glance over his shoulder proved both her husband, former FBI agent Sean Mackenzie, and her Dominant lover, Mitchell Thorpe, scrutinized his every move.
“Don’t pay attention to them,” Callie encouraged as she guided him to a bursting table. “They’re always overprotective. Most everyone has already eaten, but the buffet is still out, so please make yourself a plate. Let me know if you need anything else.”
What he needed was Brea, but Callie and Tara weren’t who he needed to ask. Still, he tried not to look like an absolute bastard.
Tara handed him a napkin and some plastic utensils. “Would you like a beer?”
He’d love one, but he had to maintain a clear head tonight. “Just water, if you don’t mind.”
“Coming right up.” The redhead shimmied her way toward the refrigerator.
One-Mile put a few things on his plate so he didn’t look as if he had zero interest in this party. But the warm, catered chow beat the hell out of everything he’d hunted and scrounged in Mexico. His stomach rumbled. So he dug in.
As he shoveled dinner into his mouth, One-Mile took in the rest of the scene. In one corner, Trees stood alone, staring at Zy, who leaned over Tessa with a smile that broadcast the fact he’d love to eat her whole. The pretty blonde receptionist stared back at him like a sugar addict gazing longingly at a lush cake with a dollop of pure-orgasm frosting. If they weren’t fucking yet…it was only a matter of time. Josiah crowded next to Stone and some of the Oracle guys, engaged in an animated conversation.
Logan took the opportunity to sidle up to him. “You back?”
Besides Brea, here was the other person he needed to talk to. Might as well get it over with. “Temporarily, but—”
“I haven’t heard from you in a fucking month. Want to fill me in?”
Before he could, Hunter and Joaquin joined their conversation, glaring daggers.
“You can’t come to work, but you can show up to a Christmas party?” Hunter challenged.
Oh, fuck you. He didn’t have the patience for this. “We all know how much I love social occasions, especially when it involves your sparkling company.”
The older Edgington replied with a snarl and an obscene finger gesture.
“What’s going on in Mexico?” Joaquin asked, trying to be the voice of reason. “Is it done? Is Montilla dead?”
One-Mile prepared to launch into his rehearsed speech when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Cutter waving to the small crowd. Did the asshole think he was leaving?
“I’ll catch y’all later. Merry Christmas.” Then Bryant turned, extending a hand toward their host. “Thanks for everything, Sean. Your wife did an amazing job. I had a great time.”
One-Mile shoved his half-eaten plate of food aside. If the Boy Scout was heading out, he damn well intended to follow.
He wouldn’t rest until he knew Brea was all right.
“Can you stay for three more minutes?” Sean asked Cutter. “Callie hosted this party for a reason.”
Cutter hesitated, then caved. “Sure.”
When Tara returned with his bottle of water, One-Mile thanked her and released the breath he’d been holding. Callie gave a heartfelt speech about everyone in the room being a member of the family the Mackenzie-Thorpe trio had chosen.
“Hear, hear!” The party guests raised their glasses before hugs began all around.
One-Mile knew he wasn’t included in that group, and he tried not to care. Would it be nice to have a circle of tight-knit friends? Maybe. He’d never had such a thing. But for Brea’s sake? Yeah. Some of the unconventional relationships like Callie, Sean, and Thorpe’s, not to mention the freak flags everyone in this group openly flew, would shock his pretty girl. But once she got past that, she would love their close sense of community.