Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 154925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 775(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 775(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
She reached for the beer because that thought had come from the old MaeBe. From the MaeBe who’d thought because a guy was overly protective and possessive, that meant he loved her.
She wasn’t letting the old Mae take over ever again.
“Hey, why did you walk away?” Kyle was suddenly in her kitchen, and West wasn’t far behind.
She popped the top on her beer and did not offer the men one. They had testosterone to fuel them. They didn’t need precious beer. “You two were having a moment. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Kyle seemed to consider her words and took a deep breath before turning to West. “I believe she’s telling us we’re acting like idiots and she’s not going to have a part of that. She’s right. At least about me. I’m sorry. I care about that woman more than you can understand, and I’m fucking things up. Would you please give me a moment with her? I promise I’m fully trained and usually in control of my own damn emotions. You should call your brother so he can panic call my uncle and the wheels to get us out of this awkward situation can be put in motion.”
Ah, reasonable Kyle had shown up. He was a mask, of course. The arrogant ass was the real man. She tipped back her beer, taking a long swig because she knew what would happen next. West would be impressed by Kyle’s apology and forget that the dude had been holding his own gun to his head not five minutes before.
Women did not forget that shit. Oh, women could smile and get along and not ruin the world, but no woman would have truly accepted an apology after that.
West gave Kyle an aw-shucks grin and held out a hand. “It’s okay. Welcome back, man. I would probably be on edge if I’d gone through what you had.”
Poor Kyle. He’d gone through so much. She took another long swig as West and Kyle became best friends and shit and West promised to do exactly what Kyle had said to do because it obviously now made sense to call his brother. Yadda fucking yadda.
It was weird. She’d thought about this a lot, sat up at night going through all the scenarios about what would happen when she saw Kyle Hawthorne again. She’d wondered if he would show up one day with Julia on his arm, all shiny and new because his love had healed her psychotic brain. She’d dreamed about him getting on his knees and begging her to take him back. In some, he’d utterly ignored her as he took his place in his family and she was frozen out.
In all of those scenarios, she’d thought she would feel something. Something other than this awful numbness that had come over her a few weeks after he’d blown up their world. Sometime between Kyle’s “funeral”—which she hadn’t attended—and the beginning of her hardcore training, she’d gone cold.
“Mae? Baby, please can we talk?”
They were alone now, though she doubted West would go far unless his brother for some reason decided to pull him off the assignment. Then she could be alone, and that would be nice for once. “I can’t seem to stop you. So talk. Get it off your chest.” A thought occurred. “Did you manage to kill your ex-honey?”
It would be the only truly acceptable reason for him to show up in her apartment. He’d broken them utterly, and he couldn’t possibly think she would welcome him with open arms, but if he told her she was free of his murder-minded ex, then she might actually give him a beer. She’d kick him out after, but she would pass him that beer.
He hesitated for the first time, his arrogance fleeing, and for a moment he looked like the Kyle she’d loved, the one only she got to see.
The mask he’d used to lure her in.
“No. In fact, I think what happened in London a few days ago might have given her even more power.”
That info made Mae put down her beer, the bottle slapping against the granite with a thud. She’d kept up with the Radcliffes since they seemed to be at the center of everything. “Holy shit. The news reported it as a robbery gone wrong.”
The week before, the senator, Samantha Radcliffe—mother of both Drake and the daughter from her first marriage, Julia Ennis—had been attending a conference in London. Her husband had been found dead in their suite. It had been a minor story, quickly overtaken by some Hollywood starlet’s encounter with a stalkerish fan. An old man dying wouldn’t have made the papers at all except for his wife’s job.
Kyle’s palms were flat on the countertop as he stared at her. “There’s a lot to the story. I don’t know how much I should tell you. I want to keep you out of this as much as I can. It’s for your protection.”