Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Ambrose reached for my arm, and I don’t know what it said about me, but I allowed him to usher me out of the room and across the parking lot to a nondescript sedan. I didn’t think anyone had followed me to the hotel, but their little chat about some guy walking back and forth through the parking lot creeped me out. I climbed into the back seat without a word, the feeling of someone watching me crawling up the back of my neck. When Ambrose let go of my arm, I shuddered and scooted down in my seat so only the top of my head was visible from outside.
“We can’t stay in Baltimore,” Danny said as Chance drove the car into the morning traffic.
“It’s a big city—” I began, peering out the window.
“Not big enough,” Ambrose said quietly from beside me. “You shouldn’t have come back here.”
“I had to,” I replied.
“Where are we going?” Chance asked, glancing at me in the mirror.
“You tell me,” I replied emotionlessly. “I would’ve stayed in the motel room I paid for.”
“Where’s Charles, Lucille?” Ambrose asked quietly.
I just stared at him. I’d had chemistry with plenty of men. Sometimes it was a fleeting thing, and sometimes it led to longer relationships, but it always ended eventually. Whatever was happening with Ambrose wasn’t that. Instead of butterflies filling my belly, it felt like a tether had pulled tight between us. I looked away and took a deep breath, which was a mistake considering I got a huge whiff of him, and he still smelled distractingly good.
“I’m not taking you to my brother.”
“Are we really still doing this?” Chance asked in irritation.
“Leave my brother alone.”
“We’re here to help him,” Ambrose said kindly. “He’s Zeke’s mate. He’s part of our family.”
“He’s my family,” I argued. How dare they try to claim Charles. He was my brother. The only family I had left after our parents had died within a year of each other when we were teenagers. Zeke was family. They weren’t anything. Charlie didn’t even know them.
“I don’t envy you,” Chance said from the front seat. I wasn’t sure who he was talking to or what the hell he was talking about.
“Listen,” Ambrose said as Chance suddenly took a side street and smoothly pulled out at the next intersection, driving in the opposite direction. “Zeke was murdered. Our brother, Beau, and his mate were ambushed and barely made it home. We’re not sure what’s going on, but we need to get you and Charles somewhere safe, and Baltimore isn’t safe.”
“Charlie isn’t in Baltimore,” I replied smugly.
“But you are,” Ambrose countered flatly. “And I’ve seen what these people do. You may think that you’d be able to hold out against them. You’d be wrong. If they get their hands on you, it’ll be a matter of hours before they know where your brother is.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but snapped it shut again when he shook his head angrily.
“You will not withstand torture,” he said slowly. “Tell me where Charles is so we can get you both somewhere safe.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. On one hand, I couldn’t ignore the sense of relief that filled me when I imagined the Boucher brothers taking over the job that I’d been doing since we’d realized that Zeke wasn’t coming back for us. I was exhausted from being on constant alert. On the other hand, I didn’t know these brothers of Zeke’s, and neither did Charlie. If I showed up with them, there was a good chance that we’d scare the hell out of my brother.
Charlie had been through enough, and he wasn’t in any condition to deal with more.
Plus, for all I knew, the brothers were the ones being followed. If someone had found me, maybe it was because they’d led those mysterious people right to me. I wasn’t about to let them lead any assholes to Charlie.
“Take us to the house,” Ambrose ordered after a few minutes of silence.
Chance sighed in irritation and nodded.
The car was quiet as we drove in circles. Back and forth through the city, never taking the same streets or crossing previous paths. It took us two hours. Finally, we drove down a quiet suburban street, passing someone walking a dog, a couple of toddlers and their mother drawing on their driveway with chalk, and an old man sitting on the porch in a lawn chair.
Chance reached above his head, and as we pulled into a driveway, the garage in front of us began to open. The minute the door was high enough, we pulled inside. No one moved until the door had closed behind us again.
“I’ll do a quick sweep,” Danny announced as he left the car.
“Whose house is this?” I looked around the garage. A few tennis rackets hung from pegs on the wall. Beside them, a tool bench sat deserted, an array of tools scattered across the surface like someone had only set them down for a moment and planned on coming right back. Two bicycles were parked in the corner, helmets dangling from the handlebars.