Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“He didn’t leave?” he asks me.
“Not that I saw.”
“You hang tight here.” He hurries away, pulling out his phone, and I give into the tears. The fear.
The memories.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRADY
“You need a new suit for the party,” Millie says, leaning against the counter at her coffee shop, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks me up and down, as if she’s examining me. “You’ve worn the hell out of the one you have. It’s time for something new and fashionable.”
“It’s a black fucking suit.” I scowl at her. “I can buy a new tie. Maybe a new hat.”
“No.” She shakes her head, reminding me why my baby sister drives me bananas. “New suit. I’m serious, this party is important, and you have a date. Abbi deserves to have her date look extra hot.”
“Who are you going with?” I counter, and she scowls.
“I don’t need a date,” she replies, lifting her chin. “I complete myself.”
“You should write a book about that.” I shake my head when she scowls at me. “Do not throw something at me. Anyway, this party is in four days. I can’t buy a custom suit in four fucking days.”
“It doesn’t have to be custom, fancy pants. Go across the street and buy something off the rack.”
“You know, this would have been good to know a couple of days ago.”
“You know,” she counters, “you’re a complainer.”
“I am not.” My phone rings, and I answer when I see Chase’s name. “Yo.”
“Get up to the resort,” he says, his voice hard and brisk. “Abbi needs you now. Condos, near the restaurant.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Get here,” he says and hangs up, and I stare at Millie for two seconds before running out of the coffee shop and to my 4Runner, my heart pounding, as I drive a couple of miles up a winding road to the resort near the chairlifts.
I can’t get there fast enough. Did she get hurt on the job? I know she’s working more in the field this week. God, did she fall?
I come around a corner and spot Abbi’s SUV, so I park next to it and see that she’s in the driver’s seat, crying.
“Fuck.” Within seconds, I open her door and am squatting next to her, brushing her hair off of her cheek. “Hey, sweetheart. Deep breath.”
She’s not just crying. She’s having a panic attack. Her eyes are round and bright, her hands clenched on the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles are stark white. She hasn’t even acknowledged that I’m here. I don’t think she realizes that I’m right next to her.
“Come on, beautiful. Breathe with me.”
She finally glances my way, and her face crumples.
And I see the huge bruise across her cheekbone and her eye. Rage fills me, spreading through me like fucking wildfire, but my hand is gentle as I brush my thumb over her chin.
“Hold…your…”—she gulps—“fingers…up.”
I frown, but I do as she asks, spreading my fingers and holding my hand up, like a child telling someone their age.
And she systematically blows on each finger, then reaches up and tucks it down to my palm.
She’s shaking but concentrating on blowing on my fingers, and after the third time of going through each one, she starts to settle.
“Oh, God,” she sobs and brushes at the tears on her cheeks.
“Okay.” Shaken to the core, I cup her face and lean in to kiss her cheek, sure to be gentle so I don’t hurt her. “It’s okay now, Abs. Where’s Chase?”
“Upstairs,” she says, gesturing with her chin toward the building. “I was cleaning. I thought the condo was empty, but—” She shakes her head, and the tears start again, fueling the bright red anger pulsing through me. I’m going to kill whoever did this to my girl.
“Brady.”
I stand and turn at Chase’s voice, and see that he, along with two other cops, is leading a shirtless man out of the building, his hands cuffed behind his back.
“You motherfucker.” I charge him, fist cocked, but Chase catches me, holding me back. “I’m going to rip your goddamn heart out. I’m going to be your worst fucking nightmare, you hear me, you piece of shit?”
“Stop.” Chase’s voice is hard in my ear.
“Let me kill him.”
“I can’t let you touch him,” he says, jerking me. The asshole smirks at me, but I see blood running down the side of his face.
“Tell me she did that to him.”
“Oh, she clocked him good with a frying pan,” my brother replies, pride in his voice. “And she needs you. Abbi is who you’re here for. This asshole will get what’s coming to him. He confessed to everything, gleefully. Fucker.”
“I’m going to hurt him,” I promise my brother.
“I didn’t hear that.” When the asshole is in the back of the squad car, headed to jail, Chase turns to Abbi, who’s just staring straight ahead now, the look in her eyes breaking my fucking heart, and squats next to her. “Abbi, I need to ask you some questions, but first, we should take you to the hospital.”