Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“I reckon we’ve all reached the age where we have to prioritize,” Joshua said. “If I kept the hours I did when I was with the MPD, I’d keel the fuck over. Besides—” he shrugged “—I don’t want to anymore. I’mma let Dean be my sugar daddy soon enough.”
KC and I laughed, and I leaned in and kissed Joshua’s cheek.
“Nothing would make me happier.” I was honest.
Lucian smiled faintly and loosened his tie a little. “I suppose I could get better at prioritizing. I’m just not ready to admit I’m too old to work.”
Who said anything about that?
“Have you even turned forty-five?” I asked. “Slowing down doesn’t mean stopping altogether, Lucian.”
“Exactly.” KC tipped his whiskey at me. “Let’s not forget you have a goddamn doctor telling you to slow down too.”
“All right, all right.” Lucian got a bit defensive, and it was clear he wanted to change the topic. “Things will get better soon. We have a new adviser shadowing me—he’ll take over in a couple of months. Let’s move on.”
I could tell KC was holding back from pushing further; now wasn’t the time, when they had guests and so on, and I didn’t have that relationship with Lucian to press the matter—
“At the risk of overstepping my bounds,” Joshua said, clearing his throat, “I’ll tell you what the chief told me when I was burned out. He said—it’s about who will take care of me when I’m sick. When I’m old, when I come home from work. Who will remember me when I’m dead. It sure ain’t coworkers and clients. They don’t care if I work myself into an early grave. They won’t remember the extra hours I put in, my sleepless nights, or how my health deteriorated.”
I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t have that relationship with Lucian either, yet it didn’t stop him from speaking candidly about the truths someone needed to hear.
“You wanna give that time, all that effort, to those who love you instead,” Joshua finished. “To those you love.”
His words had made an impact. Lucian glanced over at KC, who offered a sober look in return and grabbed his hand on the table.
I turned back to Joshua and found him watching me.
“That’s what I’ll be doing,” he said quietly.
Jesus. I tightened my grip on his hand and kissed him quickly. He couldn’t possibly know how much I—
“Master?” Cam called. A beat later, he appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to disturb, but I can’t reach the extra mixing bowls on top of the cabinet. Could you help me?”
“Of course, love. I’ll be right there.” Lucian stood up and made his escape, but just as “go figure, we have a runner” entered my mind, I watched his steps falter. He had to steady himself by grasping KC’s shoulder. Alarm shot through me when I saw the look on his face; it was as if all the blood had drained from it, and his forehead glistened with sweat in the dimmed spotlight above.
Joshua and I shot up from our chairs at the same time as KC turned in his seat and tried to pull Lucian down on his lap.
“Baby, sit down,” KC urged.
“Oh my God—Lucian!” Cam ran over, panicked, and I rounded the table to move Lucian’s chair closer to KC’s. “Lucian, can you hear me? Is he having a heart attack? Lucian!”
“I’m fine,” Lucian gritted out. “I…I’m…fuck.” He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, and a second later, I managed to get him to sit down right next to KC. When Lucian rubbed at his chest, Joshua and I exchanged a quick look. He took over for me and dropped down to Lucian’s level, and he and KC tried to figure out Lucian’s symptoms.
“I’m gonna call an ambulance,” I said. My heart pounded as I pulled out my phone. That was when Gael stormed in, presumably having heard the commotion, and I was sure my worry mirrored the emotion I saw in his eyes.
“It’s gonna be okay, Master,” Cam whimpered. “You have to be okay.”
“Steady breaths, Lucian—”
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
EPILOGUE 2
Santiago Jones
A month later
I eyed the screen.
Delivery attempt failed; customer unavailable to sign for package. New delivery attempt tomorrow.
Caleb wasn’t at his job when he’d said he would be. I rubbed my forehead and switched lanes, and I stepped on the gas.
According to Caleb’s Facebook, he was supposed to be stuck in the office all day doing work he was “overqualified” for. So I’d sent him a box of fake flyers for a local restaurant opening.
It was the third time the motherfucker had me on my toes. Twice because he’d posted old photos as new, and now this. But I couldn’t let my guard down, ’cause that was when they struck. I didn’t care how many times someone cried wolf—I would always come running. Because you never knew.