Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Chère, don’t be afraid.” Yet.
zuri
. . .
Darius dug his light-up shoes into the sidewalk when an engine roared onto the street, cutting off my baby’s cries. Tennessee had offered to stay, even after they’d finished one of those Toy Stories. Didn’t know which one, because while Woody and Buzz hatched up the same plan to save their people—er, toys—I was plotting.
Our escape.
Now, blood swooshed in my ears. A cold sweat chilled the already frigid January night. I turned my head slower than the next victim in a slasher flick. Edwin—
“Montana?” I nearly dropped all I held—a single backpack hooked over one shoulder. No, it can’t be him. Edwin had found me.
“Chère, don’t be afraid.” The voice held the comforting NOLA inflection—deep, arrogant—but something else rode beneath the surface, not appreciation.
Uh-oh. This looked bad.
He’d told me not to leave when we arrived at the restaurant. Although I never said I would stay, I was pretty sure his alter ego forged my consent.
Because Montana Babineaux didn’t have layers—Big Country did.
Montana was my friend. Handsome. Normal. Banter on point.
That other one—Big Country—was an entire stack of personalities. He believed I’d stay put because he said so. Whenever Big Country took over, Montana mentally backed into the bushes like that Homer Simpson meme, leaving me alone with the loud one. The bossy one. The freak, who’d screw me tonight, and have amnesia come morning.
The lights on the car flickered off, leaving us beneath dim streetlamps no better than the dino-shaped nightlight I’d also left in the bathroom. Ugh. Those things, tiny as hell, cost more than table lamps.
I lifted my chin, hand in Darius’s. We walked much faster to him than he did to us. He glanced at my top. Yeah. I threw on some jeans, but I was still in Shanice’s bloody, strapless dress.
At his scoff, I scoffed too, stopping five feet away. He couldn’t tell me great minds didn’t think alike. He donned a hospital gown with the same pants as earlier.
“How are you … friend?” Really, Zuri, you’re beating around the bush.
“I’m fine. You fine as hell. We gonna be alright.”
I rolled my eyes at the signature cocky response. “Big Country had his say. How’s Montana?”
Montana glowered. “You wrong, you know.”
“Plausible.” I shrugged. “Still, I’m the doctor, you’re the patient, making you the subject. Why aren’t you at the hospital?”
“You took me to the wrong hospital. So, I’m going home. Drive.” He flipped me the keys, then strolled away.
I grabbed them. “What …?”
He didn’t even turn to address me. “First, you are the doctor. Second, you got the energy to leave in the dead of night, you can drive. I navigate. Third, I have horses.”
“What do h—”
“Horses?” Darius snatched his arm away, his light-up shoes pounded pavement, leaving an echo of blue light.
“Yep,” Montana said at the passenger door. “Darius, you wanna see a horse?”
“A real one?” My son squealed.
“On one condition.”
“No conditions,” I cut in, the backpack strap digging into my arm. I’d packed all I could. “Darius, come back …”
He climbed into the back seat, and Montana closed himself in the passenger side. I approached the open driver door, shoved the backpack over the headrest, and got in.
Face forward, Montana spoke under his breath. “They were teens. Kids.”
“I know …” I huffed. A thought hit me. “What about my stuff?”
Montana shot me a look that read, Of all the neurons in your head, that’s the one you chose?
The next morning, I awoke with a smile and rolled over onto a mattress for the monarchs and kissed Darius’s chubby cheek. Cute Little Dude.
Ugh. Not Little Dude. He was royalty. A king. All along, I’d given him an impactful name. His real birth certificate read Malik Caldwell. If we hadn’t run. All the other names? They also meant king; he just didn’t remember them.
I pressed my lips to long lashes fanned across golden skin. “I love this name for you, son. We’ll keep it.”
Did that mean … I’d take Montana up on his offer to stay? The trip to Montana’s home traveled past oak canopies that swallowed moonlight. The city’s hum vanished, replaced by blessed silence. He’d said the house overlooked water. I’d only seen darkness.
I climbed out of the fancy four-poster bed, went to the balcony door, and gasped. A river curved through the land below. The water’s reflection held the blue sky and golden notes of morning.
“Happy New Year, Zuri. This is heaven speaking,” I murmured. Maybe we could stay?
Zuri, please.
A man like Montana?
No, Big Country—his alias had the ego to boot—he was insatiable. The nerve of him! He made me add stipulations last night while I was halfway to the pearly gates in his arms.
He eyed me like a Vegas buffet and End World Hunger, which scared me. I’d only been with one man. Edwin hadn’t stared at me nearly as hungrily, still look where it got me.