Controlled Burn (Blackbridge Security #8) Read Online Marie James

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Blackbridge Security Series by Marie James
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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“I’m going to work,” Ezra grumbles as he stands up, skirting the long way around the table to avoid the bird.

She tracks him with her eyes as he gathers his things from the console table near the front door.

“Walk away,” Evie snaps. “That’s what you’re good at.”

My brother shoots me daggers before walking out of the condo. The door snaps closed, making me turn to gape at my bird.

I had a more off than on relationship with my ex, and Evie was a purchase from a pet store because I felt like I needed companionship during one of the times he disappeared. She was calm and mostly silent, only saying hello when the phone rang, or someone knocked on the door. For the longest time, I figured she just wasn’t a talker, but when Ty Penman showed up the first time after I purchased her, she came out of her shell. She had to have been a man-hater before I bought her, but it was the first time having someone of the opposite sex in my space. If Ezra thinks he has it bad, then he has another think coming. At least Evie tolerates him. She hasn’t defecated on his person yet, and that’s progress as far as I’m concerned.

“Stop antagonizing him,” I snap at her as I walk out of the room.

Unable to ever not get the last word, she’s perched on my shoulder before I can even open the door to the guest bedroom Ezra is now obviously regretting offering me.

The living room looks perfect compared to this room. There are literally boxes and plastic totes stacked nearly to the ceiling. Looking at the contents of the room makes me feel like the biggest failure of all.

You see, it’s not only me wedged in this room surrounded by as many things as I could manage to move out of the house I was renting. Those three reasons my ex gave me to live, the very reasons I get up and keep going each and every morning, stay in here with me. My seven-year-old twins, Kason and Kayleigh, and my five-year-old son, Knox, also live in this room. The boys share the double bed against the far wall, and Kayleigh and I sleep in the queen bed wedged into the corner.

This room is a silent reflection of my life. It’s cluttered and confusing. It’s full of things I have to have. Layers and layers stacked upon each other that makes so much of it unused and neglected.

I can’t give the things in this room the attention it deserves, and I feel the same way about my kids. I have no friends to speak of, but it’s not like I’d have time for them if I did. I can barely juggle the other four people that live in this condo.

“This place is a pigsty,” Evie squawks as she flies across the room to the perch sticking out from the side of her cage.

“Tell me about it,” I mutter.

I argued with the damn bird the first time she said it. Then, she was speaking about a couple of dirty dishes in the sink, and she’s said it a million times since I brought her home. It bothered me the first time, and I rushed to clean those dishes, but this isn’t a mess I can tackle today, so I quietly change into my gym clothes, keeping my back to the mess.

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away,” Evie calls after me as I leave the room.

She’s like the grandmother I never had, giving sage advice, especially during those times when no one asked for it.

I take several calming breaths as I climb into the elevator, thankful for the in-building gym. Working out is the only calm I get during the day, and I tend to take full advantage of it. Before moving in with my brother, I had to either exercise outside or hold my breath at the gym that was closest to my house. Considering the importance of breathing while exercising, I usually opted to hit the great outdoors.

I take another deep breath as I walk inside the gym, loving that it smells of cleanliness and lemons, unlike onions and dirty socks, like my old gym.

Maybe when I move out, I’ll be able to convince Ezra to let me keep the key. Access to this state-of-the-art gym is almost enough to stay piled into one bedroom. Knowing that thought isn’t serious because my kids deserve better than a cramped life with no room to play, I frown as I walk toward the filtered water machine with my Hydro Flask.

My frown does a full one-eighty as I approach. My other reason for wanting to keep coming to the gym, and the motivation I’ve used to get out of bed several times in the last couple of weeks, is standing there.



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