Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Because that man couldn’t be me.
But here we are, six months later, and I’m not sure I made the right decision because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like anyone is watching her back.
Fury rolls through my veins again today. Only, this time, I’m alone. This time, I don’t have to hide it.
I’ve intentionally avoided having anything to do with Bianca since I left her security detail. If I hear her name, I tune out. If we’re in the same place, I ensure I’m the farthest away from her.
It’s for the best. For all of us.
But now she’s here, in my fucking house, and it appears it’s where she should’ve been all along.
Are these motherfuckers dropping the ball?
I massage my aching jaw from clenching my teeth all day.
We knew there was a threat to Bianca the day Rory left Reid. We also knew that threat grew when Rory appointed Bianca as Brewer Group’s Interim President—Reid’s former position. If that threat has continued to grow, and it appears it has, why in the fuck was she without security today?
Am I the only one that cares about her safety?
The idea that there are men sitting around a table somewhere half-assing a security plan for Bianca fills me with rage. I’ve kept it packed away all day. I couldn’t let it boil over until I was alone and had time to think it through.
Now that I have, I want answers.
I pace a circle along the side of my house and yank my phone from my pocket. I find Ford Landry’s name and hit call. It rings three times before his voicemail picks up.
“Hey, it’s Carmichael. I have a couple of questions about Bianca Brewer. Give me a call when you can. Thanks.”
I slam my finger against the red button on the screen.
“You okay, Foxx?” I look up to find my mom walking up the steps to her house. She waves with a curious, if not slightly concerned, face.
No. “Yeah.”
She hesitates as if she’s considering heading my way. So I quickly cut across my yard and into hers, meeting her at the stairs.
“Do you need a glass of tea?” she asks as I swing open the back door.
“Nah. I’m good.” I hold the door open for her. “Seen your son lately?”
She laughs. “Well, I have five of them. But something tells me you’re talking about my youngest.”
“Where is that little fucker?”
Mom leads me to the kitchen. “I take it you weren’t aware that you were participating in a bachelor auction today.”
I stare at her.
“Oh, Foxx.” Mom laughs again. “I know you don’t think this is funny—”
“It’s not.”
“—but who would’ve thought Banks would be able to con you into something like this?”
“Me.” Jess comes in with a hat that reads Proud Chicken Daddy. “Found Sparkles yet?”
Mom points a finger at him. “Jess, you stay out of this.”
“Sorry, Mama. No can do. I’ve waited my whole life for this.”
“For what?” she asks.
Jess snickers. “For Banks to have enough balls to finally fuck with Foxx.” He sighs happily and turns to me. “I take it you haven’t found him since the … charity event.”
His amusement isn’t amusing. The list of people I don’t like is growing by the hour.
“No,” I say. “But I about ran over three chickens a little while ago.”
He gasps. “Greta, Iris, and Rita?”
“Who?”
“Was it Greta, Iris, and Rita?”
I sit at the table. “I feel like this conversation went left, and I took a right.”
“We’re talking about my chickens.”
“You named your chickens?” I ask, somehow surprised. “Who names chickens?”
“People who wear Chicken Daddy hats,” Mom says, laughing.
Jess glares at her, snatching a glass of sweet tea out of her hand. “You’ve been spending too much time with Maddox. You think you’re funny.”
Mom swats at his shoulder, making him laugh.
“At this point, Moss and Maddox are the only two of you who I don’t fear are losing their marbles,” Mom says. “The rest of you are starting to concern me.”
I hold a palm in the air.
“You were in a bachelor auction today, Foxx,” Mom says. “That’s concerning.”
“Tell me about it.”
Jess downs half the glass of tea before shoving it back in Mom’s hand. “Thanks for the drink. I have to go find the girls before dinner.”
He marches out of the house like a man on a mission. What the fuck is happening here?
“He’s not right,” I say, shaking my head.
“He’s happy.” Mom gathers a stack of notebooks off the counter and heads to the table. “One day, you’ll understand.”
“I don’t mean this the wrong way, but I hope to hell not.”
She grins. “You will. Trust me.”
“If I ever get chickens and refer to them as my girls, I’m not happy. I’m ill.”
She laughs, shaking her head while she organizes her notebooks. “Sometimes you just need to be reminded about the things that make you happy. That’s Jess right now. He was always slightly goofy and fun-loving.” She looks at me briefly before going back to her books. “You’ll see what I mean someday.”