Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
"You don't know?" he asks, and the hint of challenge and protectiveness over the man might as well be an alarm bell.
"I don't know anything about him," I mutter. Keeping my eyes on my working hands, the man standing behind me has every other ounce of my attention.
Curious when he doesn't speak, I turn to face him.
"Franklin Jenkins is a Marine Corps Medal of Honor recipient, but I fully believe he should've gotten eight. One for each bullet hole he got, plus one for each of the three Marines he used his own body to protect."
Every word after 'bullet hole' sounds like a murmur, although his tone never changes. I'm sure if my dad had heard that he'd been injured while serving, he would've told me. It's definitely something I wouldn't forget had I been told.
I'm not surprised that his parents would see him getting hurt as an act of weakness. That may have kept them from mentioning it back home, but I find it impossible to believe that he would've received the highest military honor in the Marine Corps and not spent every waking hour for the rest of his life boasting about it to anyone who would listen.
"So Zeus then, huh?" I ask as my weight carries me to sit on the end of the bed.
"Stories say he's immortal," Ace says. "Have a good night. I'll lock up downstairs."
He just leaves, his boots carrying him down the hall as if he didn't just leave me with the news that Frankie could've been wiped from this earth, and I never had a clue he was even hurt in the first place.
Chapter 4
Zeus
"What the fuck?" Jericho asks as he steps into my path on the way to the conference room.
The smack of the back of his hand on my chest is as shocking as the grin on his face. It's not that the man doesn't ever smile, but his tone says he's annoyed, and the grin contradicts that.
"What the fuck?" I counter, reaching up to rub the area he just smacked me.
"You bolted last night," Jericho says.
"I was tired and went to bed," I explain as I try to step around him, only for him to shift right back into my path.
"You missed my proposal to Aspen."
Now I feel like a complete asshole.
"Shit," I mutter. "Sorry, man."
He pulls in a deep breath before speaking again.
"Just don't miss the wedding."
"I won't," I promise, trying to sound as enthused as I can manage when I have no idea what the next year of my life will look like, especially after the revelation that walked through the front door last night.
I wish I could get Zayne out of my head, but thoughts of him infiltrated not only my waking mind but also my dreams. Ignoring him would be a lot easier if the man weren't going to be part of this team.
The only thing I can be happy about is that my upcoming job is with Fury, and it could take months of undercover work, months when I won't have to see the man's face and can pretend that I don't have trouble waiting for me back at the house.
"Meeting," I remind him.
"We have twenty minutes before it starts," Jericho says. "I just came down to grab Eli a snack."
"Better get to it," I say. "He's a growing boy."
He gives me one of the brightest smiles I've ever seen on his face, and it's clear the amount of pride he has when thinking about his son.
"See you in there," he says before walking toward the kitchen.
I pull in a breath of relief that he was focused on his own life and future rather than grilling me about Zayne, but I know it's coming, the millions of questions from everyone on the team.
I feel a sense of elation for getting to the conference room super early, but that little ego boost fades the second I step inside and see Zayne already sitting at the table. My mood shifts immediately, turning into annoyance before quickly moving to irritation when he looks up from his phone and locks eyes with me.
I'm not surprised the guy is the first one in the room. He's always been a kiss ass with people he considers to be in authority, but the man doesn't know that Hemlock is usually one of the last ones to show up unless he calls an emergency meeting.
Instead of engaging, I take a seat across the table, closer to the door, so when the meeting starts, I don't have to worry about the man being able to see me. At least he won't be able to if he's paying attention to the person in the front of the room speaking, and I anticipate that because he'd never get caught being distracted when his attention is expected elsewhere.