Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
I stepped out, uncomfortable as I felt eyes on the back of my neck. I looked around. Bad suit guy was staring at me. Not in a way that made me think he’d been checking out my ass. That would have been preferable.
This look was something different.
Something that made me walk a little faster through the bustling lobby.
“You kick ass,” Wire said. “Let me know if you need my hacking skills.”
“Thanks for the offer, but how about I try and do the rest on my own?”
There was a pause. “Babe, you’re family. You’re never alone.”
The simple statement filled me with warmth and ice. Even though I moved, I would always have the Sons of Templar, and I loved that. But a part of me felt alone. The part of me that Rosie had filled. She was an integral part of that family.
“You might want to reconsider that satellite thing if Rosie takes any longer to surface,” I informed him, walking past Heath to grab myself one last coffee for the day. What could one more do? I could handle heart palpitations.
“Give her time. The girl hasn’t had that since she came from the womb,” he said.
I sighed, hating that he was kind of right. “Fine,” I said.
“I’m ignoring that ‘fine.’ But anything you need,” he said by way of goodbye.
“Thanks, Wire.”
Then I hung up.
And got coffee.
And tried to figure out how I was going to navigate all of this.
Somehow it was easier knowing that I could finally breathe again.
I was tired.
Was there a word for beyond tired? Because I was that. A couple of death threats, emotional rollercoasters and sex that would have made Hades himself blush had me feeling like I needed a bath and Netflix and bed.
And to somehow sort through the fact that I wasn’t worried at all about death threats when my mind was bursting with one thing.
Keltan.
I hoped for his presence. So much better than Netflix. Then I wondered where the declarations of earlier left us. Were we finally wading through the shit? Was I finally going to let him in? I toyed with the answer that was leaning towards yes, then tried to imagine how it would work.
Us.
That’s why I didn’t notice my door was ajar until I was halfway into my apartment.
I should have been a little more observant considering the aforementioned death threats. The glint in Keltan’s eyes and then Heath’s gave me enough pause to know that glint wouldn’t be there if the threat wasn’t.
But when my survival instinct finally caught up—it was too busy trying to protect my heart, you see—it was too late. The person in my apartment was already close enough to do their damage.
“Surprise!” Polly shouted.
I screamed and nearly jumped right out of my Prada mules.
Polly took it as a scream of excitement, never mind that I had never in recorded history screamed from excitement. She jumped on me, and in my efforts not to fall over, taking her with me, I dropped my bag.
That poor thing was getting a beating.
I was engulfed in her vanilla-laden scent. And when I got my racing heart under control, I hugged my little sister back, her scent calming me slightly.
Polly grinned wide at me, her hair tossed into a messy bun atop her head. Her tanned skin was glowing, just like her violet eyes. “Are you so happy to see your favorite sister?” she asked excitedly.
“Only sister,” I corrected, turning to close the door behind me. “And am I excited to see my only sister, who broke into my apartment, nearly giving me a fright to rival the time Ashley tinted her eyebrows too dark?” I asked seriously, turning to regard her. “Of course,” I added on a grin.
I was close with the Sons of Templar family, and missed them. Missed Rosie like an ache. But my blood family were everything to me. I may not have been like Polly, and she may not have loved hanging out with bikers as much as me, but she was my Lol.
I hadn’t talked to her much in six months, namely because she couldn’t be wrangled in one place long enough for a phone conversation. Even in the age of cell phones.
Mom was much the same. She called me at least once a week but didn’t stay on the phone long enough to talk properly.
Dad and I still had our movie nights once a month, over Skype.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, walking over to the fridge. Wine was needed. Coffee was enticing, but my hands shook slightly from the sheer amount I’d imbibed.
She walked with me, grabbing the glasses from their spot in the shelf above the toaster. We were all about easy access.
She set them down for me to pour. “What? You’re not happy to see me?” she asked.
I filled the glasses. “Of course I’m happy to see you, despite the mild stroke you gave me from breaking in.”