Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
He had to shift her to one arm so he could take the pizza. When he returned to the living room, he got them both under the blankets. He even managed to get her to eat more than a few bites of pizza. He’d thought that the Fox might have come to see them.
And it worried him more than he was willing to admit that he hadn’t.
The Fox stared down at them, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat.
He hadn’t learned about what had happened until half an hour ago.
Fucking Mr. A and his fucking tasks. The Fox was through with his shit. What was he even doing? He didn’t jump through hoops for anyone.
Why start now?
He glanced down at his girl. She could have been hurt today. No more experiments unless he was with her.
He shouldn’t be here. But he couldn’t not see them. He’d already put a fire extinguisher in every room and confiscated the remainder of the chemistry set.
Soon.
This will be over soon.
When he got back to his car, he drew out his phone.
Fox: I’m over these bullshit tasks. Either you trust me or not.
Mr. A: One final one . . .
Fox: Well? What is it? Tell me now, or I’m out. I’m done.
Mr. A: Very well. Your final task is to kill Dahlia Paulsen. Details to follow.
Well.
Fuck.
27
The Fox stared down at the message.
It didn’t change no matter how many times he’d looked at it over the past twenty-four hours.
What the fuck did he do? He hated being undecided about something.
He could warn Markovich. But what if Mr. A found out? And sent someone else to take her out? And from what he knew, Markovich already had her locked down pretty tight.
No, this was a test for him. Mr. A wouldn’t send someone else.
What happened if he refused? Because he knew he couldn’t fucking do it.
“Shit. Fuck!”
This is what he got for caring. This would have been so simple before. When his life was all gray. No color.
He heaved for breath. Well, he always knew it was a possibility that things would implode.
All he could do was protect those that were his.
Fox: Why her? What did she do to you?
Mr. A: I didn’t know that you needed a reason to perform a job.
Fox: Ahh, but usually I get paid for a job.
Mr. A: Do this successfully and you will. Do not think of betraying me. You would not want something to happen to your two little companions. Would you?
Terror unlike anything he’d felt in his life, slammed into him. He was on his feet and reaching for his gun before he realized that the threat wasn’t here.
Nope. It was far worse. The threat was toward those he cared about.
There were only three.
He grabbed a burner phone. Should he send Sunny to a safe house? Fuck. The threat hadn’t been against her. He needed to think about this. Sending her to a safe house would tell Mr. A that she meant something. Would it put her in more danger? His safe houses were as secure as he could achieve, but nowhere was as safe as his den, but he couldn’t take her there.
He’d never be able to let her leave.
Would it be a signal to Mr. A that his loyalties lay with the Iron Shadows and Markovich if she disappeared into a safe house? There were rippling effects. Perhaps he’d be better of protecting her another way.
He jumped into his car, then sent another message to Brody. He had to get to them.
No one threatened his babies.
No one.
28
Brody stared down at the text, fear racing up his spine.
Fox: Danger. Stay inside. Answer the door to no one. Pull the curtains and pack a bag. I’m coming.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck.
Did he tell Autumn? He didn’t know what to do. Moving around the house, he drew the drapes closed.
“Everything okay?” she asked from where she lay on the couch.
Going to her, he crouched down.
“Brody?” she asked, looking worried.
“The Fox texted.”
She scowled. “Did he tell you where he’s been? What does he want? Tell him he’s a jerkface.”
“Yeah, I’m not ever telling him that.” He liked being able to sit comfortably.
“Gimme your phone! I’ll tell him.” She grabbed for his phone, leaning over too far and falling against him.
He fell back onto the floor. “Swear to God, we need carpet.”
“Gimme the phone!” She wriggled over him, slamming her knee into his balls.
Seriously.
Not. Funny.
“Oh my God! Brody, I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m such a klutz! Want me to kiss your boo-boo and make it better?”
He rolled to the side, cupping his balls.
“I’m so sorry!”
“Tutu, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I’m terrible. I think I’m graceful and everything, but I’m not!”
He managed to sit up, taking hold of her hands as she flung them through the air. “Autumn, breathe.”
“What?”
“Breathe, sweetie. Just breathe. In. Out. That’s it. Listen to me. Look at me, please. Everything will be okay.”