Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“What’s the picture of?” Mace asked, having me come to him with the fresh coffee. Of course, Mace’s detail-focused brain went straight to the information I’d wanted to keep from him, no matter how I tried to swerve him another direction.
“I’ll figure this out.” I sidestepped the question, handing him the cup.
“Is all this my fault?” Mace asked, not defensively but curiously, genuinely wanting to help stop the unauthorized information leaking. “What was the picture of?”
“It’s a shot of you, and it’s not your fault,” Tommy said, bouncing his head to the music while giving up the lie behind the expensive headphones.
“The photo’s me?” Mace said, still rooted in his spot at the kitchen entry but now with a coffee cup in hand.
“Yes,” I said. I stared at him but was still completely unable to read his thoughts.
“Can I see it? Maybe I’ll remember who was around.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Tommy said, pulling the earphone from his ear again.
I stared between the two men, my protective side reared and ready to do battle. My insecurities, the ones I never let rule me, charged forward. If I didn’t do something, anything, the burden of my celebrity would end everything, like it had so many times before.
Shit.
“Let’s have coffee on the patio. Tommy can make us his famous waffles. It’s about the only meal he does well. There’re full of delicious carbs...” I rambled on for distraction, shoring up the decision that I wasn’t ready for Mace to mentally leave the cocoon of the love fest we’d established last night. Which meant I needed to move him out of the discussion.
When I had my cup of coffee in hand, I found Mace standing to the side of Tommy, staring at the laptop screen. One hand was on the counter, the other on the back of Tommy’s barstool. He’d placed his coffee cup on top of the counter.
“This was in the last couple of days. That’s the shirt you bought me the last time you were here. It’s the plaid with our logo.” Abruptly, Mace lifted. He gathered his fingers behind his head, intently focusing on something unseen. “The auction had come through, and I took the blind mare. Remember that? I was watchin’ the mare, givin’ her room, wonderin’ if I had what it took to handle her properly. No one was there with me.” Mace’s stare landed on me. “What does that mean? Can a drone take that kind of picture? Surely I would have heard.”
“Maybe,” I said. Quality outdoor drone cameras, I imagined, were easy to come by, but Nico should be on top of those. It also drove the point home that it was an inside job. My stomach churned. Likely, by someone who had access to my schedule. “Mace, hang tight. I need to speak with Nico. Tommy, I’ll head to his place, don’t tell him I’m coming.”
Tommy nodded, on my same page. Who else did I have to trust? I went for my Jeep keys, and cell phone. Probably needed some shoes on too.
“I like the beard,” Tommy said faintly to Mace.
“Barely a coverin’,” my guy answered. From his tone, I bet a small blush stained his cheeks at the compliment. He was adorable. I loved him completely, and I better not lose him to a bunch of insider bullshit. I was out the front door, taking long strides to my ride. I had to get a hold of this. A million in Bitcoin. Right.
Chapter 29
Mace
Nico and Slade were oddly similar people. Only Nico did “intense” better than any human being I’d ever known. I wasn’t sure he had another mode to his temperament than full-throttle menace. He was currently on the back porch, Tommy was out there with him, but Nico paid Slade’s assistant little attention. He paced, like Slade did, back and forth, cell phone stuck to his ear, using his other hand to animate whatever he had to say.
Earlier in the day, before Slade had left, I made the decision to stay out of it, leaving me unsure where we stood. I had the ranch’s new laptop open on the kitchen island, waiting for our nightly video call.
The doorbell rang. I glanced in that direction but before I could make a move, Nico bellowed from outside, “Don’t answer that.” He stalked toward the kitchen as I leaned to see the front door windows. My mom stood in the long window beside the door, cupping her hands against the window, peeking inside.
She waved happily when she spotted me.
“Your parents are here,” Nico said, eating up the distance between me and the door. “The report came in while I was on the phone. I couldn’t warn you it was them.”
Nico power opened the door. I was surprised it didn’t fly off the hinges and slam back on him.