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)
What the fuck had just happened?
His legs gave out on him as he slid to the floor in a heap, resting on his butt.
Was that really the Fox? Had he just broken into his apartment? And did he . . . did he really want a relationship with them both? Or did he want Brody because of Autumn?
This was so confusing.
He’d obviously been watching Autumn. Had she met him the night he’d killed Senator Robins? But she’d never told the police about him.
Had he just been watching her since then? Why would he do that?
Brody was so confused. And then there was his attraction to him. He was an assassin.
He wasn’t a good guy.
Yeah, tell that to your dick because it doesn’t seem to care.
He couldn’t . . . he needed some time to process this. His phone buzzed. Shit. That was probably Autumn.
What did he say to her?
How did he pretend this hadn’t happened? He was a terrible liar. How was he meant to keep this from everyone? He rubbed his face as he stood and looked around for his phone. Where had he put it?
It buzzed again and he found it on the counter. Opening it, he saw a text from Autumn.
Tutu: Hey, you home from work yet? Don’t worry about tidying up, I don’t mind a bit of mess.
He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. What the heck did he say? He didn’t think he could see her tonight, not without letting on what happened.
He was going to have to lie.
Darn the Fox for making him do this. But he couldn’t see any other way around it. He had to figure out what to do.
Tell Ink.
And if he did that, what was to stop the Fox from kidnapping Autumn? Brody would never see her again. Panic filled him at the thought.
Was he willing to risk his safety to help protect Autumn?
Yes. He’d do anything for her.
He loved her.
God, he actually loved her.
But the Fox was a complication he wasn’t prepared for. He didn’t know the other man and what he did know . . . he couldn’t want him in their lives. He wasn’t safe. No, he was arrogant and had no morals. No sense of right or wrong.
And yet, there was this attraction to him . . .
He rubbed at his temples, a headache growing.
Brody: Sorry, just got home. Bad headache.
Tutu: I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?
Brody: No, sweetie. I’ll be fine. Gonna go to bed now.
Tutu: Call me tomorrow? If you’re not feeling up to it, we can go pick a Christmas tree a different day.
Shoot.
He’d forgotten about that. She’d mentioned that Christmas had always been her favorite holiday, but she hadn’t felt like celebrating last year. He’d promised to go with her tomorrow to get a tree.
Brody: Might do that next weekend?
Tutu: Absolutely. Feel better soon. Xxxooo
Guilt flooded him. But he really couldn’t be around her right now. Not until he figured out what to do.
13
Autumn tried to watch the Christmas movie.
But it just made her sadder.
She wasn’t sure what exactly she’d done. But she’d barely heard from Brody this past week. Every time she tried to call or text, he’d reply that he was busy at work and that he’d see her soon.
Now, it was two days until Christmas Eve, and she was all on her own.
So sad.
Gathering Freddy Fox close, she reached for the bottle of Birthday Cake Baileys. This stuff was the bomb. She’d ordered a dozen bottles of it, and this was the last one.
That sucked.
This whole thing sucked. She’d been hoping to watch Hallmark movies with Brody. Maybe bake some cookies. He was meant to spend Christmas Eve with her. They’d planned to have waffles for breakfast and open gifts while drinking hot chocolate. She’d even gotten some food for the reindeer and was going to leave Santa out some milk and cookies.
She rubbed at her scars. They felt like they were burning, even though she knew they weren’t.
She finished off the Baileys. It wasn’t hitting the spot. She needed something more. Something to make her forget.
Moving to the kitchen, she searched through the cupboards.
Nothing.
She wandered into her spotlessly clean bathroom, booze in her hand. She stumbled into a wall, giggling to herself.
Opening a bathroom cabinet, she started rifling through the packets of drugs. There had to be something here to help her forget.
Even if it was just for a little while.
The Fox sat in his favorite chair in his den.
The leather creaked slightly as he settled in.
It was good to be home. Things had been, well, rather busy lately.
He looked down at his kill list. Organization was key. Wouldn’t want to forget someone, now, would he?
But he still didn’t know who Mr. X was. He had his suspicions. But apparently, Markovich wanted proof.
The Fox thought he should just be allowed to murder anyone he suspected.