Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“I’ll put it on the list.”
Two of the initial residents walked into view and drew up when they saw them there. Dark eyes flashed between her and Paul.
One gave a nod and the other pushed his hands in his pockets. “You figured out who tried to kill Evan yet?”
She readjusted her bag and stepped forward. “I’m Violet, the interim manager. Do you have thoughts on what could have happened? I know the police are working on it.”
Both men snorted and rolled their eyes. “They don’t care about our kind.”
“I do, and I want to make sure we can do what’s necessary to take all steps, so this doesn’t happen again”
“It’s okay, Damon,” Paul said. “She’s a good one.”
Damon’s scowl didn’t waver as he looked her over. His skin, tan and wrinkled from outdoor exposure, had pockmarks, and there was a faint scar along his chin and neck.
“You serve, girly?”
“The name’s Violet. And no, sir, I didn’t. My mother did.”
He grunted but nodded. “See you don’t fuck this up. Come on, Davis.”
The men walked off, leaving her alone with Paul once more.
“That was fun,” she deadpanned.
Paul shrugged. “It’s hard for them to accept outsiders. Took him six days of seeing me twice a day to even speak to me. He must like you. I didn’t know your mom served.”
“Yeah, she was in the Army.” Violet had to swallow back her opinion of the woman who’d chosen the life of fucking men in every city and bringing some home. The ones that she’d brought home Violet had ended up having to fend off. Because of that, eventually her mother chose leaving her because the woman couldn’t enjoy the lifestyle she wanted with a kid hanging on her pant leg.
“Not a fan, I see.” Paul unlocked the office, and she walked in to her desk and dropped her bag by the chair. “Care to tell me why you agreed to work at a place for veterans if you aren’t a fan of the military?”
She lifted her tired gaze to the man in the doorway. It didn’t matter he wore white leather pants and an atrocious orange shirt—beyond that was a capable man and one who currently was protecting his fellow veterans.
“I have nothing but the utmost respect for the men and women who serve the country, Paul. My issues with my birth mother don’t, and won’t, change that.” She shrugged out of her jacket and moved to hang it behind the chair. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest. I need to go through some more files and start getting this plan in place for the senator.”
“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
Seated, she inched the chair closer to the desk. “I’ll be fine. You get some rest, and I’ll meet you back here in the morning.”
He flattened his lips but gave her a nod and backed out, closing the door behind him.
* * * *
Hastings woke in the space between heartbeats, brain instantly cataloging where he was and if he was in danger. He exhaled slowly when it clicked he was in a hotel room.
Safe. He pushed to a seated position and gazed around the room. Deep burgundy, hunter green and accents of gold. Farmed copies of artwork adorned the walls but he didn’t care about any of it. Not even the peeling wallpaper in the upper left corner of the room was an issue.
Rising, he padded to the window and glanced out, standing along the edge of the large picture window. The sun shone and below him was the hustle and bustle of San Francisco. He cracked his neck and went to take a piss. As he washed his hands, he lifted his head to stare at his reflection.
It wasn’t long before he had dressed and exited to find a gym, needing a workout. Three hours later he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets and stepped out of the hotel only to draw up short.
Leaning against a black Range Rover were his brothers. Both of them. Livingston and Bradford.
Livingston, impeccable in his black suit with hints of dark blue, had a familiar, serious expression on his face. Bradford, also dressed in a suit, but a charcoal-gray. Hastings realized his brothers’ smile had been missed.
Hastings moved toward them, aware of the crowd watching. The men drew attention. Without trying, it happened. “What are the two of you doing here?”
Bradford stepped up and hugged him without hesitation. “Where else would we be when our brother comes back to the country?” A hard pat on his back. “Damn it’s good to see you.”
Hastings returned the embrace. “You, too.” They separated and Hastings was shocked to find Livingston hugging him next. His brother had always been so contained and pulled into himself.
“Were you even going to tell us you were in the States?”