Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 110273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
I was coming out of our section of the house when Matt bypassed me, yawning widely.
He stopped, took me in, and let out an audible sigh. “What happened?”
I frowned. “You smell of martinis, cigarettes … and I’m hoping that last smell isn’t what I think it is.”
He frowned right back. “Fuck you. You weren’t the decoy while my sister played at breaking and entering.”
“I wasn’t judging. I meant that I hoped you didn’t have to do what it smells like you did.”
“Oh.” He blinked, bags under his eyes. “I’m tired.”
He hadn’t answered.
“Matt.” I inclined my head toward him. “You didn’t fuck her?”
“What?” His nose wrinkled and he stepped back. “No. That’s what I smell like?”
I didn’t want to test my theory and take another whiff. But, shit. Nope.
I knew what I was smelling on him.
“Matt,” I was cautious here, proceeding slowly. “The last relationship you had was with a mar—”
“God. I know.” He glared at me, rocking back on his heels. “You don’t have to tell me, and no, to get ahead of this awkward-as-hell conversation you’re determined to have with me, it’s no one. It’s not a thing or anything. Had an itch, knew someone who’d scratch it, and that’s all.” Another heated look from him. “You okay with that, Dad?”
“Stop with the jabs, dick.”
“Prick.”
“Asshole.”
He blinked. His mouth twitched. “Fuckup.”
“You wish,” I deadpanned back. “You’d be loved more.”
“God!” He burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “That one almost hurt.”
My own mouth twitched.
His laughter faded, but he was still grinning. He jerked his chin up. “What happened last night? Did Bailey get what she needed?”
“She did good.” And he had to know. “She was on a high.”
He jerked, his eyes shuddering for a beat. “Wait. What? She was high?”
“No. When she hacks, she can get a high from it.” I needed to spell it out. “And then afterward with how she is, with the grief…”
His eyes grew wide and alarmed. “Is she okay?”
“She’s sleeping, but she went low. She remembered that night and woke up thinking I was Calhoun’s men.”
“Shit.” His nostrils flared. A keen, murderous look entered his eyes. “If I had a gun, if your grandfather was here—why isn’t he dead yet?” He was gone. All rationality checked out, and he was breathing fury. “That’s your job. What’s the problem? I know you know where he is at every goddamn minute of the day.”
“It’s not that easy.”
I wished it were.
For a second, a minute, I considered it.
Could I just go? I could. I could get to him. I could even get him isolated, and I would have weapons at my disposal. I could kill him. It’d be so easy. I could do it slow, torturing him. Or I could merely slit his throat and watch him bleed dry. Or I could slice him all over, make his last breaths so painful, puncture his lung and have him choke on his own blood. That was a different type of dying that was its own hell.
But it was the after that I had to consider.
“Calhoun wasn’t stupid. If he dies, there are policies set in motion. People will come after whoever killed him. He still has resources I need to turn against him. I’m digging. I’m trying to find everything.”
He whistled. “He’s a sick bastard.”
“He has a contract out to go after not only me but also Bailey. Maybe you guys, too. I’m working on isolating him from all his assets, but it takes time. And money. And diplomacy.”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked, and he looked exhausted once again. The bags under his eyes grew in size just during our conversation. He rubbed at his jaw, swearing softly under his breath. “I’m going to collapse, man. I gotta hit the hay.”
I nodded. “Before you do, did you learn anything new from Camille Story?”
He grimaced, his mouth twisting. “Yeah, actually. She said Quinn has someone else in her camp.”
That wasn’t good, and how the fuck had I missed that?
“Quinn is digging for information on us, right? Did you get that from her?”
He frowned. “Yeah. Sorry. I should’ve said that first. Camille admitted she was tapped by Quinn to get as much info from her as possible. Then they started a weird friendship, but Camille was asked to try and dig up more info on you and Bailey—Bailey specifically.”
“Bailey? Not you?”
He shook his head. “No, and I pressed. She said she was only saying what she was saying because she was happy it wasn’t me anymore. I don’t think she meant to let that slip, but she shut up right after for a long while. She got a funny look on her face, like she realized she was saying too much. She tried to turn the tables and push me for information. Think that’s the only reason she came, because Hoda said I was drunk. I was acting it up. She thinks I forgot to pay my bill, that we dined and ditched. I’m sure she’s going to give Quinn that tidbit on me, but she said Hoda’s a tapped well. Which makes sense; it’s why she’s letting Hoda move out without a fuss.”