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)
“I hate when you say I’m not giving it enough time to heat like it’s my fault. I give it plenty of time.”
I roll my eyes.
“So how was the honeymoon?” she asks, following me into the kitchen.
“Great.”
“Just great?”
“What do you want from me?” I say, chuckling. “A play-by-play? No offense, Mother, but you don’t want to hear that.”
She holds her hands together on the countertop and grins. “You look happy, Foxxster. You actually look happy.”
“I am happy.”
“I think the last time I saw you this happy was the year you got that red spy kit for your birthday,” she says. “Do you remember that thing?”
I’d forgotten all about that. “Yeah. I made Jess’s life hell with that.”
Mom laughs. “You used to try to set up trip wires across the house. I’d get up in the morning and have to have my wits about me because, if not, I might face-plant on the way to the kitchen.”
“Ah, the good old days when you could be a dick, and it was charming.”
Her eyes sparkle. “I think you still get away with some of that nowadays.”
“I’m offended.”
“Sure.” She smiles, standing tall again. “So what can I do to help Bianca settle into Kismet Beach? She seemed to get along easily with the girls and Becca. That’s good.”
My heart swells with happiness and pride. I love how easily she fits in my world and how much she wants to. Who would’ve thought a woman like Bianca—wealthy, successful, powerful—would trade it all for life in a small town? Not me.
“Are you going to continue to work for Landry Security?” Mom asks. “You’re gone an awful lot. I thought maybe you’d want to find something closer to home.”
“This has all happened so fast. I’ll need to think about it before I decide on anything.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone. Jason’s name is on the screen. “I need to take this real quick.”
“Help yourself. Want a glass of tea?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m good. Thanks.” I lift the phone to my ear. “Carmichael.”
As soon as the call connects, I sense something is wrong. It’s a vibe, an exchange of energy—some telepathic way of communicating that Jason and I share.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
His voice is low and controlled. It sends chills down my spine.
“Foxx, listen to me closely,” he says.
“Listening.”
“I’m at Mom’s. No one knows I’m here,” he whispers.
“Okay.”
My heart pumps so hard that I can feel it without searching for it.
“One perp is in the kitchen with Mom. He has a gun to her head,” Jason says.
“The fuck?”
That’s all it takes for me to slow down and begin calculating ways to eliminate the threat. My breathing is calm. My blood pressure steady. I’m laser-focused on the situation.
“Have you called the authorities?” I ask.
“Negative. There’s a second threat.”
He doesn’t have to tell me what that is. I already know. I whip toward the door.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I’m at my mom’s. Fuck!”
Jason growls. “How the fuck did this happen?”
You took the question right out of my head.
My brain sorts through a series of events.
Sorry to bother you. But I was just at Smokey’s, and they found one of your keys. Becca gave it to me. I set it on your counter.
I stop, meeting my mom’s fearful gaze. “Quick—did you set my security alarm when you took the key Becca found to my house?”
Her brows pull together. “I think so. Why?”
“Stay here.”
“What’s the situation?” I ask Jason.
“From what I can gather, if Bianca doesn’t do whatever Dad says, the man here is going to shoot Mom.”
Fuck! “Does your dad have a gun?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who has a gun?” Mom asks. “Foxx, what’s going on?”
I stay focused on my house, trying desperately to evaluate how to get into my house quietly and keep Bianca safe.
“Suggestions?” Even I hear the agony in my voice.
“Dad’s the main threat,” Jason says. “Eliminate that. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. But do it. Do whatever you have to do. I doubt this guy gives a shit. We can’t—”
“Alert Reid.”
“Exactly.”
Dammit. I move into the living room and stand off to the side of the window, trying to get a good look at the front of my house. I kick myself for not walking her inside. What was I thinking not going with her?
I’ve failed my wife.
“Can you get inside your house?” Jason asks.
“Yes. I’m figuring that out now. Assuming he hasn’t barricaded doors and windows, I should be able to slide in the bottom door.”
“From what I can tell, they’re in your living room—fuck! Shit. Did you hear that?”
I still. The second report of a gun cracks through the air, breaking the silence. Then there’s screaming.
Oh God …
I have to get to her. If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.
“He shot the ceiling,” Jason says. “It’s all good. All good.”