Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
She shakes her head as she washes her hands in my kitchen sink. “Can’t.”
“Plans?”
“I’ve got a date with my husband.”
“That’s sweet,” I say, trying not to sound like the jealous, bitter cow that I am.
“Clean this mess up. Maybe it’s allergies from all the dust that’s gathered that’s making your eyes do that leaking thing.”
She presses a kiss to my cheek, and then in the next breath, she’s gone. I feel a little overlooked. As much as I thought she’d see right through my tears, she didn’t even really question them.
I look at the pile of things on the table that she brought, but I just don’t have the energy or even the want to go through them. I fall back on the couch, grab another wad of toilet tissue, and point the remote at the television.
Chapter 15
Kit
“You got another email from Homeland Security.”
I grit my teeth but stay silent after getting hit with that invasion of privacy the second I step into Wren’s office.
“Fucking traitor!” Puff Daddy squawks.
My dentist is going to read me the riot act for how much I’ve been grinding my teeth lately, but I just can’t seem to stop.
“Do you have the list I asked for?”
“Just going to skate right over what I said, huh?” Wren spins in his chair, handing me the folder of information I asked for yesterday.
“It’s Saturday,” I mutter.
“And tomorrow is Sunday. What’s your point?”
“Sundays are for fucking!”
I keep my eyes locked on Wren because it’s the only thing keeping me from wrapping a hand around that bird’s feathered neck.
Wren grins, clearly reading my annoyance with his little feathered friend.
“Why are you even at work?” I ask, opening the folder to flip through the specs he’s provided for a new line of rifles.
“The girls are all out shopping. No sense in wasting time alone at home.”
“Easier to stalk Whitney from here?” I nod toward the video playing on one of his computer screens.
“Just making sure they have a fun time,” he offers with a shrug as he hits some keys on his cell phone.
Whitney’s back straightens in the video a second before her hand jerks out to grab the clothing rack she’s standing in front of. Anna, Deacon’s wife, laughs, her head thrown back as she shakes her head.
Wren hits more keys, and Whitney nearly doubles over.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask, worried for the woman on the screen.
“He’s making her come!” Puff screeches. “Come for Daddy!”
Wren shakes his head as he glares at his bird. “You pay too much attention.”
“The whole house smells like sweet, sweet pussy. Spread wide for me, baby girl. Let Daddy see that pretty, pink slit.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as I turn and head to the door. “Have fun with that.”
“I will,” Wren says as I start to walk out before he turns his attention to the bird. “The fuck did I tell you about that shit?”
“No erections at work!”
“You stupid fuck,” Wren snaps. “I’m going to feed your ass to Simon.”
“That cat’s the devil, and you stole my girlfriend!”
I shake my head as I close his office door behind me.
Puff Daddy has been in a mood since Kendall took her parrot back home. Evie, the female, completely opposite version of Puff, stayed up here for a short time while Finnegan and his woman worked things out. Where Puff is all vulgar words and inappropriate, Evie is the equivalent of the woman at church, clutching her pearls in shock after discovering that some people have sex midday on a Wednesday.
“It’s good to see you grinning,” Jude says as I make my way to the sofa.
His constant observance and the need to voice his opinion on my moods have been driving me crazy for the last several weeks. It’s almost enough to make me redirect to my office where I can be a miserable bastard all by myself, but I’m certain I’ve been doing that a little too much lately. If Jude is recognizing my mood, he’s also observing my behavior.
“That stupid bird,” I mutter as I take a seat beside Quinten.
Several of the guys sitting around chuckle in agreement.
“Last week Puff told me he was making plans to score with Remington,” Flynn says, his British accent making him sound even more annoyed than usual. “I almost drowned the little fucker in Wren’s coffee cup.”
“He’s a menace,” Brooks agrees. Suddenly, my attention goes right back to the folder in my hands, but I nod in agreement to keep the others’ suspicions down.
I haven’t really spoken to my best friend since that night we were together at Jules’s house, and I know the guys can feel the strain between us even though no one has brought the subject of Jules up. I don’t know if I should be happy or sad that the guys aren’t exactly impressed with Brooks and what they think he’s done, but the man is loyal. I’ll give him that. Despite the tension among the guys, he hasn’t caved and spilled her secret. It’s as if he’s okay with everyone thinking he’s the man he’s portraying so long as I know the truth.