Prowl (The Game #12) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
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He dropped his gaze and nodded once.

I exhaled.

Good to know I wasn’t losing my mind.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, already regretting I’d involved my daughter in the mess. Fucking hell, why couldn’t I take back texts?

“I really wanna tell you, Ty,” Macklin said, rushing out the words. “I want you to know—but it’s not my story to share. All I can say is, he panicked. That’s twice you’ve caught him completely off guard, and I’ve already said too much. Fuck.”

I frowned and let my hand fall.

I’d caught Lane off guard twice?

“You should go to him,” he added. He was visibly antsy and uncomfortable. “Like, right now. He’s at home. Force him to tell the truth. Because trust me when I say this lie is hanging over him like a big gray cloud. He feels so bad, Ty. I promise.”

I felt my frown deepen as I ran through the reasons for not actually driving straight over to Lane’s place in Arlington tonight. Were there any at all?

Fuck it.

“I remember you rambling the address, but you’re gonna have to repeat the code to get into the building,” I said.

Macklin gusted out a breath before the biggest smile took over his face. “It’s 7943, and just pass the lobby with purpose in your step. Otherwise, the guy sitting there might ask you to state your business.”

I wasn’t surprised. Because the reason Lane’s street address had stuck was because I knew the area well. He lived pretty close to the Pentagon, and his street was essentially a cluster of high-rises, where the government owned plenty of condos for private contractors. Security was pretty tight.

“Finally—Master’s on his way. We gotta tell him you’re gonna go after Lane.”

Yeah, I needed Macklin to take his excitement down a peg or two. My going over to Lane’s tonight only meant I was gonna confront him about how we’d once met—and why he’d lied about it.

Walker joined us, looking happy to see us, but he didn’t get a word in edgewise once Macklin launched.

I cocked my head and listened, and the way Macklin phrased himself—how I was gonna go over to Lane’s and begin my “hunt”—piqued my interest. He mentioned nothing about any lies, which begged the question. Had Macklin kept this from Walker too?

I had to say, that would make me feel better.

“Remember to breathe, love,” Walker chuckled.

Macklin sucked in a breath. “Right, yeah. But isn’t this great? They might get to where we want them tonight.”

“Whoa, okay, hold your horses, boy.” I shot him an incredulous stare, and he turned sheepish. “I ain’t gettin’ my hopes up anymore. We’ll see how the talk goes and take it from there.”

Rather than simmering down, Macklin faced me fully. “You don’t get it. This has to work. The four of us set something in motion in Florida, and now we’re gonna be good boys and follow through.”

“Nobody’s doing anything they’re not ready for,” Walker replied firmly.

Thank fuck, he could sprinkle some rhyme and reason over his boy.

I folded my arms over my chest and rested a foot on the footrest of the stool.

“I’m not saying anyone should,” Macklin argued. Just then, they cranked up the music across the club area, and it was all the announcement we needed that the evening was now all about dancing and playing. Macklin threw a glare in the general direction of the countless speakers. “Can we go someplace we don’t have to shout?”

Walker nodded and took charge, suggesting the kitchen. I followed behind them and took a swig of my water.

“By the way, did you send Dean home, Sir?” Macklin asked when we reached the lobby.

“Not yet, but I told him to rest up in your cabin, and he actually obliged.”

“Oh, good.”

I had questions about Walker’s brother, but they were gonna have to wait. Lane occupied all the space my mind could offer at the moment.

The kitchen was empty—of people, not photos. Hell. One of the walls was cluttered with old, mismatched picture frames, with dozens of black-and-white photos of Mclean members.

Easy to see they’d recently undergone renovations. Everything looked great. Deep-green walls, glossy cabinets, spotlights, and a big rustic-looking kitchen table—mixing old with brand-new. It was a lot homier than the rest of the place. From what I’d seen, anyway. I hadn’t been upstairs yet.

I took another swig of my water and glanced out the windows on my way to the counters. It was pitch-black, except for the flurrying snow that caught in the outdoor lights.

“Daddy, I’m just gonna pee first!” someone yelled and ran past the kitchen. “Oh crap, I ran too far.”

I grinned faintly and leaned back against the sink.

“All right, we can talk now, pet.” Walker looked like he was taking in the changes too. Except, for him, they actually were changes. I didn’t know what the place had looked like before.



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