Lost the Handle – Nashville Assassins Next Generation Read Online Toni Aleo

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
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Now, that’s an idea…

Before I do something stupid, like ask my parents to offer the Adlers a cow, a goat, and some land for my hand, I look into Ava’s transactions to see what her day looks like. She’s addicted to subscription boxes, and I can’t blame her; I love them too. She does a lot of online shopping and spends a lot of money at the hospital on food and coffee. Understandable. It can’t be easy to work such long shifts, and Lord knows I’m not trying to make my lunch every day. It’s hard waking up to make Quinn’s, but I want him to think of me during the day. As I click through her charges, I consider hacking in to her cameras when I see that she pays a monthly fee for a security system at her penthouse, but I don’t do that.

I know I’m a hacker, but I toe the line of what’s right and wrong. Yeah, my lines blur a bit and sometimes I take it too far, but one thing I won’t do is watch someone in their home. It’s not my thing. I am well aware that I’m okay with bank records and medical files, but spying on someone in private isn’t something I do. I could have spent the last three years watching everything Quinn did, but I didn’t.

That small fact about me probably stems from my love of morally gray men.

Not that Quinn is morally gray—he’s a good dude—but I also know he’d burn this world down for me.

If he weren’t set on being “engaged.”

I roll my eyes as I hide the screens with all her information and the sites I’m watching. Quinn knows his way around my computer, and I don’t want him to find out I’m watching her. I don’t know why. Maybe because I know he’ll look down his nose at my antics. Not that he’d be surprised by them, but he’d be disappointed in me.

I chew on the inside of my lip as I tap my toe. I feel like he is forcing himself to ignore me, and that needs to change. I’ve tried to just be in his space, to make him notice me, but he’s doing a good job of ignoring my existence. As much as I don’t want him to assume I only want sex, I might have to pull out the big guns on him. I need to get him to talk to me, even if it’s just to reprimand me.

I need his attention.

I need him.

Chapter

Eleven

Quinn

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I lean against Emery’s car. I should have gone home and traded out cars, but I didn’t want Emery questioning where I was going. I didn’t want her to know I was going to Ava’s family home for dinner. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in Emery’s eyes or hear it in her voice. I’ve done well to keep my distance, but I know she’s up to something.

Emery is always fucking plotting.

She’s too damn smart for her own good.

I drop my hands to my sides and exhale. I’m overwhelmed by thoughts of her ruining everything for me—and also what Ava’s parents asked at dinner—but I don’t have time for my own mental gymnastics. I’ve got to smooth things over with Ava. She’s pissed at me, and a pissed Ava is not a good time. “I didn’t mean to be so sharp at dinner. I haven’t been sleeping well, and work has been rough.”

Ava’s porcelain skin shines in the dark as she brings her brows in tight. Her hair falls straight and with no wave along her jaw. She wears a burgundy Chanel dress that stops at her knees with modest beige heels. She has no curves, very trim and thin. She has on her glasses today, black-rimmed lenses that make her look older than she really is. “Whatever, Quinn. As I said, once we’re married, we won’t have to deal with my family any longer.”

My stomach clenches. It’s not that I don’t like Mr. and Mrs. Mettison. They’re kind enough. Drunk a lot of the time, but okay people. However, there is this suffocating tension between them and their daughter, and I hate being in the middle of it. While my family isn’t perfect by any means, the love is always there. I don’t think the Mettisons know how to love each other. Or even their daughter. It’s sad, really, and it also gives me anxiety to think of my mom and dad seeing the kind of family I’m marrying into. They’re already unhappy with my choices, and I know once they spend time around the Mettisons, they’ll worry even more.

Unable to respond to her callous answer, I just say, “I’ll get with my parents and see when they have time for dinner. The Brookses are staying with them right now, so I don’t know.”



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