Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The boys who take up the offering collect the plate and begin passing it down each aisle. I deposit a one-hundred-dollar bill into the tray before handing it off to Lora. The church has had multiple discussions about modernizing and allowing online transactions, but every time the idea comes up, it meets a resounding no. I get it. There’s something wholesome about putting money into a collection bin, even if it is a pain in the ass when you forget to go to the ATM Saturday night.
“Hey, about that roast,” Lora says, her blue eyes sparkling. “It’s a pretty big one, much more than I can eat myself. Would you want to come over for supper?”
I dig my buzzing phone from my pocket. “That’s very nice of you, but I already have plans. I’m sorry.”
Her smile wobbles. “Oh, no worries. I’ll just freeze the rest.”
“Let’s open our Bibles this morning to Mark, chapter nine, verse twenty-three,” the pastor says. “Everything is possible for the one who believes. That’s what we’re talking about today, folks.”
I glance down at my device.
Brooks: So …
Me: Whatever it is, it can wait.
Brooks: Why’d you leave Pasty’s last night?
Me: Talking about a bar during church services isn’t good manners.
Brooks: Neither is threatening to kill a man for touching Mira’s ass.
I roll my eyes.
Me: I didn’t threaten anyone.
Brooks: What’s that old saying? Actions speak louder than words? Yeah. You didn’t have to SAY shit.
Me: It’s no big deal. Now shut up and pay attention.
Brooks: I’m good. I already believe, so I know that he’s not preaching to me.
I glance over my shoulder to catch him smirking at me. Audrey’s too invested in the sermon to realize her boyfriend is being a shithead. That or she’s just used to it by now.
Shaking my head, I type out another message.
Me: I’m turning my phone off.
Before I can get it to shut down, Brooks sneaks in another text.
Brooks: Oh, so no distractions? That’ll be great from Mira’s point of view. She’ll think you and Lora are canoodling.
I abort my mission. Fucker.
Me: You shouldn’t be distracted in church.
Brooks: At least I’m honest about it. You’re sitting up there stoically, pretending you’re not thinking about Mira St. James.
Me: Mind your own business.
Brooks: I try. But before I give that another go, let me warn you that Mira is an assassin.
Me: What?
Brooks: She’s silently trying to kill Lora right now with her eyeballs. They’re shooting invisible lasers into the back of her head. One or two might’ve hit you, but the majority are aimed at her.
My lips twist to hide a smile. Lora gives me a curious look, then turns her attention back to the pastor.
Me: Stop.
Brooks: What happened between you two last night?
Me: Nothing.
Brooks: Why are you lying to me?
Me: The fighting community would love to know that the former champ is now the small-town gossip.
Brooks: I have some gossip for you.
I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t wait for him to continue. I should shut my phone off and focus on Pastor Reed's message. Besides, what Brooks considers interesting gossip usually fails to register with me.
He’s easily entertained.
But I have a feeling that Pastor Reed’s sermon this morning won’t capture my attention, even if I turn my phone off. My brain will start pondering why Lolly wants to chat this afternoon, and I’ll spend the next hour working myself into an ulcer.
If she wants to sell, she can sell. There’s nothing I can do about it.
God, you’re going to have to forgive me this week, please.
Me: Fine. I’ll bite.
Brooks: Tomorrow will be a big day for Andrew Van.
I frown.
Audrey’s brother is one huge piece of shit. I don’t know all the details—mostly because I don’t ask. I operate on the premise that if people want me to know things, they’ll tell me. Otherwise, I’m better off in the dark.
But Andrew tried to ruin Brooks’s fighting career, destroy his relationship with Audrey, and blackmail him—simultaneously. That I know. What I don’t know is why Brooks is so eerily calm about it all. Sure, he got Audrey in the end, so it all worked out, but Brooks is taking it all in stride … and that’s not Brooks Dempsey.
Me: Why?
Brooks: I guess there’s a case opening against him with the combat commission. And, from what I hear, it will bleed over into a legal case.
Me: Really?
Brooks: That’s what I hear.
My fingers fly over the letters as I respond. His smirk says it all. There’s a lot more to this story than he’s sharing—which is fine—but something tells me he’s more involved in this than he’s letting on.
Me: Well, if he deserves it, good.
Brooks: Oh, he fucking deserves it.
Brooks: Nah, he deserves more than whatever he gets. But if he got what he really deserves, I’d end up in prison.
What the hell is going on?
I shrug, figuring he’ll tell me if he wants me to know.