Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe we needed a break from spending so much time naked together.
I busied myself in my room with several sets of crunches and push-ups before moving to lunges and squats. This was a mistake because once I was done with the impromptu workout, my heart rate was up, and I was nowhere near being able to settle down to sleep.
I returned a phone call to my sister about Christmas at her place and shot a text back to the family chain, letting them know that Zane had confirmed his appearance at a music festival in Bozeman next summer, and I’d be able to get them passes to it if they found places to stay.
Violet had sent me a message regarding the email I’d forwarded earlier, but only to tell me she had no additional information yet. She’d also provided some more detail on the alibi information from Noelle she’d relayed earlier. I found it very suspect that Noelle had been out of town during both the LA and San Diego stamping events, but then again, Bodhi hadn’t been at his home in New York, either. Since both of them traveled for their jobs, eliminating them from any suspect pool was damned near impossible.
Boomer reported that Bodhi had “almost definitely” been playing a gig during the San Diego incident, and he was waiting for confirmation. He’d also said Bodhi was “Really nice. Like, really nice. I just don’t like this guy for the Stamper.” Needless to say, this was not the facts-based report I’d expected from serious, stone-faced Boomer, who’d been in the protection business nearly as long as I had.
I wondered what the fuck had gotten into him… and hoped it would get the fuck out of him since I really needed him to focus on this.
One of Zane’s over-the-top super fans had posted all over social media about being at the three stamping locations, so Violet’s team was also looking into her. The only other suspect we’d been able to come up with was Isaiah Harbin, but it was hard to believe an NFL player would go that far for a PR stunt.
The man had also posted about Zane on social media, but it was in response to the various attempts to ship the most famous out gay NFL player and out gay rock star. There were entire forums, chat servers, and social media accounts dedicated to speculation about the two of them and how hot it would be if they got together.
Thankfully, Zane had no interest in the guy, and Harbin himself seemed more interested in chirping at the media about it than actually following up on it.
I tried to avoid looking at the social media sites, but I couldn’t resist it. Zane himself had been warned against posting anything because of our location, but I noticed Micki had posted generic promo graphics on his account to keep it active.
When my scrolling turned into its usual time-suck, I forced myself to put my phone down and try to get some sleep. The house was quiet with the exception of the dishwasher running in the other room. Snowflakes caught the moonlight outside my window since I’d forgotten to close the blinds. I watched them fall lazily and thought back to our time on the trail together.
The memories of Zane’s earnest efforts and his willingness to try new things made me smile. It was a good memory to think back on as I drifted to sleep…
I awoke with a start to the sound of Zane crying out my name.
I was on my feet and flying across the floorboards in seconds.
“Bear!”
“Shh, I’m here.” I quickly moved to the bed and felt around for him in the dark until my eyes adjusted. Unlike in my room, the shades were closed in here, blocking out the moonlight. “Baby, I’m right here.”
I slid onto the bed and pulled him into my arms, making sure he was still well covered by the duvet so he didn’t get cold. He was shaking, and while I was pretty sure it was from fear, I wasn’t taking any chances. The house was chilly, and Zane tended to run cold on his best day.
He heaved in a big, desperate gulp of air. “I got another email. It was bad. About you.”
For a moment, I thought he meant he’d somehow found the Stamper’s message from earlier and cursed myself for leaving it in an email folder where he could find it.
“Or maybe they said something about my mom,” Zane went on. His voice was muffled against my T-shirt, and he sounded groggy. “I don’t remember.”
I realized with a pang that he was probably referring to his bad dream. “Baby, are you awake? Was this in a dream or in real life?”
His breath hitched. “I don’t know. It was… real, I think? They said I missed the deadline. I missed the show. And they were going to make sure my mom wasn’t there, and you weren’t there, either.”