Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Aye, so do I. Just what exactly is happening between you and my sister?”
“I’m in love with her. As soon as she’ll let me, I’m going to marry her. And right now, I want to know why the fuck you’ve known about this for three goddamn years, and that son of a bitch is still breathing?”
Connor’s nostrils flare, but before he can reply, the elevator dings, and Miller strides off, his face a stony mask.
“Report,” Connor says as Miller approaches.
“We have him on the security footage,” Miller says. “He had an invitation when he came to the door. Under what name, we don’t know yet. He mingled all night, staying close to the edges of the room, and I can see that he was watching Skyla.”
I push my hands through my hair. I’ve never been a violent man, but I want to punch a hole through the goddamn wall.
“We have him approaching her, and it all happens the way she said. Then he leaves.”
“Where the fuck did he go?” I ask.
“First, he went into the restroom, and then he returned to the party, looked for Skyla, and when he didn’t find her, he walked away.”
“Out the front door,” I mutter, shaking my head. “But he’s not anonymous. You know who he is. So follow him to New York and take care of him.”
Connor lifts a brow. “You want me to commit murder?”
“Of course not. Talk to him. Threaten him.”
“Do you think I haven’t tried that?” Connor demands. “Regardless of what my sister asked, of course I did that. I spoke with the cops. I hired a private investigator to follow him. He still follows him, but somehow, the son of a bitch lost my tail on his way here. He’s slippery, and he’s connected.”
“To who?”
“Politicians. The chief of police of New York City. Enough people that they look the other way.”
“Until he kills her.”
Both of the men before me tighten their jaws.
“You know I’m right. They all look away while he terrorizes a woman and potentially hurts her. Because what is his endgame in all of this?”
“He’s convinced that Skyla belongs to him.”
“Yeah, well, he’s dead fucking wrong.” I shake my head. “If you can’t figure this out, I have other contacts who can. You’re not the only billionaire I know or who I have ties to.”
“Are you fucking threatening me?”
“Not at all. I actually like you, so I’m telling the truth. Figure out a way to hit this asshole where it hurts. Make him lose all of his money. His home. Report something interesting to the IRS. What does he do for a living? Fuck that up, too.”
“I like him,” Miller says to Connor, then clears his throat when Connor glares at him. “Sir.”
“There are ways to destroy a man without killing him. But rest assured, he’s going to wish he were dead when we get through with him.”
Connor blows out a breath. “It’s been almost a year. Why is he back now?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s back. And now he’s done.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
SKYLA
I wanted to come home. I didn’t want to stay in LA for the night. All I longed for was to return to Montana with Beckett and Riley and be where I knew I was comfortable and safe.
So we all got on the plane and came to Montana.
Mik’s at my house in town. Connor and my parents are at his new house, which I haven’t seen yet, but I’m determined to visit as soon as possible.
And Beck and I just walked into the farmhouse.
When I turn to him, I can see the fatigue around his eyes and immediately feel regret. He didn’t sleep on the plane, but he held me so I could doze in and out.
“We should have stayed in LA,” I murmur. “It’s sorry I am that I kept everyone up into the night.”
“No, don’t be sorry. The others are probably in bed by now.” He pulls me to him and kisses the top of my head. He wraps those strong arms around me and holds me in a hug that I’ve become addicted to. “I kind of love that you wanted to come home.”
I grin against his chest, then I’m suddenly in his arms, being carried up the stairs, with Riley running ahead of us, already anticipating where to go. Beckett flips off the lights as we move through the house, and then we’re in the bedroom with the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
“Did you leave that on before we left town?” I ask.
“No, Billie stopped over and turned on the lights when I told her that we’d be coming home tonight.”
I frown up at him after he sets me on the bed. “But that was late.”
“She’s my sister.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal as he peels out of the T-shirt and jeans he wore on the flight.