Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
The emotion in Thane’s words touched something inside Becket. “Would you tell him what we’re doing?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Thane shook his head, likely seeing all the ways this could go wrong because who didn’t appreciate people trying to control and manipulate them? “I think he’ll be resistant. I feel like I’m going to have to trick him.”
“Is that really a good idea?” Beckett asked. “I can’t see Julian responding well to manipulation.”
“It’s the only way,” Arik said, passing off his empty plate and glass to the waitress. “Julian’s strong-willed.”
“Julian’s stubborn and hardheaded,” Thane added.
Beckett didn’t like the idea of lying to Julian, and he wouldn’t if he ever got Julian in front of him again. “And what do you want me to teach him?”
“How to defend himself.” Arik’s hands flew out like that was a given.
Beckett gnawed on his lower lip and nodded at the waitress when she replenished his beer. “It sounds like something bad might have happened to Julian.” Beckett let go of a deep sigh. He absolutely didn’t like the idea of Julian being hurt or abused to the level that it changed him as a man.
Aggression surged inside of him. Just thinking of someone hurting Julian made his blood boil. The need to protect Julian overshadowed his desire to find out why these two were including him in the process.
“Repetitive combat training is the key to managing your head during a fight-or-flight response. I could teach him some things I’ve learned, work with him in the training room in the convention center after I finish classes. I’ll be discreet, keep it private, and I’m here for the next week.”
What did it say about Beckett that his heart did a little pitter-patter at the idea of spending any amount of time alone with Julian?
“Tell us your schedule, and we’ll get Julian to you. Let us worry about getting him there,” Arik said.
At a loss for words, Beckett had no clue if this was a good plan or terrible idea, but both men staring at him with such intensity felt like a good dose of solid peer pressure. He nodded into the silence as he tentatively committed to their plan. Still so unsure how this could do anything more than blow up in his face.
Chapter 8
More than anything, Julian didn’t want to go home to the emptiness of his condo. Being alone gave him way too much time to think. If he’d had his choice, he’d continue with the night as if nothing had happened, managing the hell out of his shift to distract himself from himself. But Ricco had pulled a sneaky move and called Levi, who promptly pulled a dick move by saying he’d tell Thane about the newest “incident” if he didn’t take it easy tonight.
It was probably the right thing to do. His nerves were fried. The fear sent his anxiety skyrocketing as he’d remembered the pieces of what had happened left him chilled to his core.
So rather than leave right away, he’d positioned himself at the edge of the bar with Woofer between his stool and the side of the bar as the guests began to arrive. From where he sat, he could easily field any problems while casually sipping on a cocktail that was more whiskey than sour. He’d pretend as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Julian couldn’t help glancing over to table thirty-four. A move he’d made fifteen times already that evening. The reserved sign still sat on top, but its occupant hadn’t yet arrived.
Since Julian’s obsessive side could recall the moment-by-moment details of the man who had reserved that table, he understood how weird it was that the cowboy was late. Beckett hadn’t arrived at the club on time nor had he called to ensure his late arrival. Maybe a first since Beckett had started regularly coming to the club.
Julian looked down at his wristwatch. Twenty-three minutes late, to be precise. Beckett made Reservations a prettier place to be. Julian lifted his cocktail glass to his lips, wondering if he should reach out to see if the table was still needed. Maybe that was why Beckett called last night.
Damn. He’d assumed Beckett’s call had been personal, not business-related.
Ricco placed a salad in front of Julian with a hearty portion of his favorite raspberry vinaigrette coating the assorted greens and slices of vegetables. Plants became a large part of his clean-living diet. A change he’d made well over a year ago, and much like he did every time he dug into a plate of vegetables, Julian yearned for a thick, juicy steak. Someday he’d have better control over his moods, and he’d add meat back into his diet, he promised himself.
“He’s doing great,” Quinn, one of their waiters, said and nodded down to Woofer.
It went against Julian’s personality to give the counselor the win on Woofer being actual emotional support. The damn dog that annoyed the shit out of him at home was almost unnoticeable, quiet and alert as he sat.