Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Briar isn’t your typical damsel in distress. She’s independent, headstrong, and far too comfortable with letting Jeb run wild. Orion’s job was supposed to be protect her from the shadows and maintain a professional distance. But as danger gets closer, so do they, and suddenly keeping his heart safe becomes harder than dodging Jeb’s random flying attacks.
Will Orion be able to save Briar from her stalker before she drives him completely bananas? Or will the real challenge be keeping his feelings caged?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Orion
I smack the snooze button again, the soft thud of it echoing in my dimly lit room.
Shut the fuck up, motherfucker.
Seriously, who in their right mind thinks nine a.m. meetings are a good idea? Certainly not me. My body feels like lead, weighed down by the exhaustion from yet another late night spent indulging in my secret obsession—magic tricks.
Yeah, I’d never tell anyone I’m into sleight of hand tricks. Especially the men I work with at Maddox Security. I’m sure the guys would love to rag on me for that. I’d probably never hear the end of it, and listen… I’d rather keep this shit to myself.
However, my fingers have a natural agility. They move with a kind of fluidity over the cards, shuffling and flipping them effortlessly. It’s not just a party trick; it’s skill, discipline, finesse. Few people can handle a deck the way I do. There’s only two things I’m really, really good at. Fucking and cards.
The alarm shrieks again, more demanding this time, yanking me out of my daydream. I groan, throwing my rumpled dark-blue comforter to the floor in frustration.
Fine, I’m getting up.
I rub my eyes, the clock flashing an accusatory 8:20 a.m. Ten minutes to get out the door. Fantastic.
I leap out of bed and stumble through my morning routine like a man possessed. A wrinkled t-shirt is the first thing I grab from the pile of semi-clean clothes on the chair in the corner of my room. Not ideal, but it’ll have to do. At least Dean, my boss, doesn't believe in suits and ties for these meetings. It’s one of the few things I appreciate about him.
However, what I don’t appreciate… Dean’s obsession with holding early-morning meetings. He’s one of those “stick to a schedule” types, convinced that knocking out meetings at the crack of dawn somehow frees up the rest of the day for productivity. Maybe for him, but for me? I’d prefer an extra hour of sleep.
I guess it also goes to say the majority of the men who work for Maddox Security are ex-military. They’re used to this shit, and sure, when I worked SWAT, I got up early for work… but it’s been a while.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, a text from Boone popping up. “Don’t be late. You know Dean will notice.” Great, just what I need. As if the anxiety about the meeting wasn’t enough, I now have Boone in my ear reminding me of Dean’s eagle-eye for tardiness. I throw on some jeans, grab my keys, and dash out the door, hoping I can make it downtown in record time.
Dean Maddox is the head of one of the world’s largest security firms—though calling it a "security company" hardly does it justice—and has a reputation for taking on the most challenging cases, the ones other firms shy away from. It’s also how he met his wife, Sophia. They had to pretend to be married for a case, and somewhere along the way, Dean fell hopelessly in love with her. Their unconventional love story is one for the books, but right now, I need to focus on making it to that early meeting.
I race across town in my SUV, tires screeching as I speed through the traffic lights. Bursting into the conference room, I’m a groggy mess, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“Why do you schedule these meetings so early in the morning?” I grumble, collapsing into the nearest chair.
Dean, Boone, Ranger, and Lincoln turn to look at me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. It’s as if I’m some peculiar artifact they can’t quite place. Maybe they’ve never been this tired before.
“It’s nine a.m. I wouldn’t exactly call this early,” Dean chuckles, his gray eyes assessing me.
“Someone had a rough night,” Boone observes, his grin widening as he leans back in his chair.
If he only knew. I let out a groan and rest my head on my arms, desperately trying to stay awake while I wait for the last person to arrive.
A few minutes later, Asher, the newest member of our team, strides into the room, clearly apologetic. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, offering Dean a quick nod.
“Thanks for being here, everyone,” Dean begins, flipping through a stack of papers with practiced efficiency. “I know the past couple of months have been challenging with my search for Bishop Blackstone. I want to extend my gratitude to each of you for your invaluable contributions in locating him.”
As Dean speaks, I stifle another yawn, wishing more than anything for this meeting to be over so I can crawl back into bed and catch up on some much-needed sleep. The room’s early morning light feels harsh, and the comfort of my bed seems like a distant dream.
“I know Isabel has been a tremendous help, and I’m incredibly lucky to have such an awesome sister,” Dean says, his tone filled with genuine appreciation. He glances at Lincoln, who’s watching him, before continuing, “Now, I have some assignments that have come up, and I want to assign each one.”