Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 125037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
He woke to the smell of stew. He recognized that particular aroma instantly. Rubin was making a favorite meal. The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the house. Diego untangled himself from Leila as smoothly and as quietly as possible and went to join his brother in the kitchen.
Rubin sent him a quick grin over one shoulder. “Knew you’d smell stew and bread no matter how tired you were, and you’d get up. Thought I’d make something healthy for you.”
“Appreciate it.” Diego sank into a chair facing the kitchen to watch his brother very efficiently take down bowls from the cupboard and gather silverware. “Rubin, you just took out four bowls.”
“Yeah. We’ve got company.”
Diego frowned. He should have known immediately, the moment he opened his eyes, if someone was close. Rubin couldn’t be wrong. He was alert and, in Diego’s opinion, extremely savvy in the woods. He should know if someone was close. He froze. What was he thinking? He was a GhostWalker, capable of slipping in and out of houses, moving through forest or desert unseen, unheard, leaving no trace behind.
“Zeke is here.” He looked around the cabin, half expecting to find Ezekiel Fortunes lounging against the wall in plain sight, yet no one would see him.
Ezekiel was a big man, spoke rarely, but he didn’t need to. He sometimes had extremely light amber-colored eyes, cool, like a fine whiskey. Other times his eyes could darken into an old gold, devoid of feeling. He was street-smart and had kept his two beloved brothers, Mordichai and Malichai, alive in harsh conditions that would have eaten them alive when they were just little boys living on the streets.
Zeke had saved Diego and Rubin from most likely going to jail. They didn’t allow anyone to take their things or put their hands on them. The two boys had a tendency to permanently end any enemies, something police frowned on. They had hopped a train and ended up in the same city, looking for work and desperate for food. Surviving in the city wasn’t the same thing as living off the land. Ezekiel found them, took them in and treated them as brothers.
“Where is he?” Diego asked Rubin. “It has to be Ezekiel. How did he know something was wrong?”
“I texted him. You know Ezekiel. If he found out through the grapevine that you had a woman and she was in jeopardy, he might cut our throats. I thought it best to keep him informed.”
“Like you should have done, Diego.”
The voice came from behind him. Low. Intense. That was Ezekiel. Diego turned in his chair to regard the man who was lounging against the doorjamb leading to the bedroom. He’d clearly already been inside the room. Diego was furious with himself because that meant Leila had been vulnerable in her sleep. Not that Zeke would harm her, not in a million years.
Ezekiel was a big man with heavy muscle throughout his chest and arms. His hair was black and always a bit on the wild side. He rarely trimmed it, so it fell in an unruly manner around his head. One would have thought it might soften his appearance, but there was nothing soft about Ezekiel.
“You’re right, Zeke,” Diego affirmed instantly. “I should have texted you.”
“You didn’t text me,” Rubin pointed out. He brought his brother a bowl of stew and placed a plate of bread on the table to one side of him.
“I didn’t have to text you,” Diego said, leveling his gaze on his brother. “Don’t try to sound hurt. You always know what’s going on with me.”
“Maybe so.” Rubin sounded pious. “But it would be nice to get a text.”
“Dang it, Rubin, you aren’t fit for shootin’ since you got married,” Diego informed his brother. “Your feelings are hurt over every little thing.”
“You saying I’m too sensitive?” Rubin demanded.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“He’s not fit for shootin’?” Ezekiel echoed. “Is that a thing?”
He made his way to the kitchen, not making a single sound, boots whispering across the floor. For such a big man, it was an incredible feat. Diego had always admired the easy way he moved, so fluid. He was a first-class fighter, his skills honed on the streets. He’d certainly been instrumental in teaching both Rubin and Diego how to fight.
“Fair” wasn’t a word used in a fight. Someone came for you, someone put their hands on you or yours, all bets were off. Ezekiel taught them to strike hard and fast, making it count immediately. He believed in ending a fight before it had a chance to begin.
“It’s a thing,” Diego confirmed. “Where’s Bellisia?”
Bellisia was Ezekiel’s wife. One was never far from the other. She was a tiny little thing, lethal as hell in the water.
“If we’re going to war, and it looks that way, she’s staying back with Nonny and all the kids to help protect them.” As always, Ezekiel spoke matter-of-factly. Accepting the bowl of stew, he sprawled out in the chair across from Diego.