Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“That wife of yours is making you too touchy-feely, man. We don’t have anything to talk through outside of you protecting your wife. Stay out of the country. Let me deal with this.”
“You called me, remember?”
“I do,” I say. “But that’s before I realized how fucked up this was going to get. Threats are being punched around.”
“Yours or theirs?”
“Both.”
“In other words, I need to come back now.”
“Fuck, man. What part of stay out of the country do you not understand?”
“The very fact that you think that I need to stay out of the country tells me that you’re in real trouble.”
“I’m not in trouble,” I bite out, ready to pour some whiskey into my coffee. “I’m making sure you don’t get into trouble.”
“We’re both eager to come back and see the furry farm,” he says, speaking of the new dog and cat they adopted right before they got married. “We already booked our flights. We’ll be back by tomorrow morning.” He hangs up.
I grimace and sip my coffee. Yeah. I need that damn whiskey, all right.
The stakes just got higher. I now have my new woman to protect, right along with my brother and his wife. Which means I can’t play around. I can’t let this turn into a drawn-out war. I can’t allow blood to be drawn on our side. It has to be blood on the other side. And it has to be now.
I get up and walk to the bar, pull out a bottle of whiskey and pour it into my cup. It’s time to get serious about doing what I do best. What I don’t want Abbie to know I do best.
Playing dirty.
Dexter whines at my feet and I walk to the cabinet and grab one of the treats I bought him, feeding the beast. Then me and my serial killer dog get to work hatching a plan to end our problem: Abbie’s ex-husband.
Chapter forty
Abbie
Abbie
I wake to the delicious feel of soft sheets around me, the scent of Gabe teasing my nostrils, and I don’t even open my eyes. For a few seconds, I just breathe in this moment, breathe in him. I love how he smells. I love how he makes me feel. Like I matter. I want to feel him now. I roll over and my hand hits empty space. I blink and sunlight brightens my view. I sit up and look around the room that is all masculine heavy wood and dark furnishings, a room created by the man who hides beneath humor. Gabe is so much more than he allows the world to see and yet, in this tiny window we’ve been together, I believe that he’s started to let me inside. It matters. It really does.
I throw off the blanket to find myself naked, and feeling just a little shy, I quickly sit up to grab my cellphone that Gabe plugged into a charger for me. That was thoughtful. Really thoughtful. I look toward the door, where he’s yet to appear, and then dash for the bathroom. Once I’m inside the giant room, I find an old fashioned claw-foot tub and lots of white tile, which is a beachside favorite that I suspect Gabe inherited with the house. It’s simple but pretty.
I shut the door, and to my surprise find my bag I’d packed sitting on the sink. Gabe did that for me. It’s another thoughtful action that has me eager to thank him in person. What time is it? I glance down at my phone to find that it’s nearly eight. I need to be at the ranch helping my mother and I quickly check my messages to find no missed calls. That’s a little odd for my mother, which worries me, but right now, I’m naked, and I need to put something on my body.
Hurrying forward, I open my bag, pull out a pair of leggings and a tank top and dress. Once I’m dressed, I dial my mother. She doesn’t answer, which isn’t normal for her. I need to get to the ranch. I brush my teeth and hair, and I’ve just finished washing the remnants of make-up off my face when my cellphone rings.
Relief washes over me at the sight of my mother’s number. “Morning, Abbie.”
“Abbie?”
She laughs. “If it’s good enough for Gabe, it’s good enough for me.”
She’s playful and happy. “You’re in a good mood.”
“We survived yesterday. I have every reason to be in a good mood.”
“And you met a hot, rich cowboy?” I tease of the owner of the ranch.
“Brandon isn’t a cowboy, not really. He’s the CEO of a bank who knows Grayson quite well. The two of them really seem determined to help find us a long-term solution to replace our property in the city.”
“Replace it? Do we want to replace it?”
“I want to leave this harassment behind,” she says, her voice tightening, the joy of moments before gone. “I need to leave it behind.” There’s a desperation to the words and she doesn’t even know about the threats against her.