Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Callum stares at me, tapping his phone. “Hey, Grady. You still there?”
“Yup.”
We sit there, the threat stretching from him to me.
“Pack it in for the night,” he finally says. “I think everyone’s off the street.”
“Sounds good,” the cop replies. “We’ll get ’em tomorrow.”
Callum breathes out a laugh. “I think we will.”
A knot tightens in my stomach even as excitement makes my heart race. I’m going to enjoy this.
He stands up, taking his green drink with him. “Why don’t you clean up before you leave?” He gestures to the mess on the pool deck. “I’m sure you remember how.”
I watch him follow the same way Amy went, but he spins around, grinning again. “And give your family my best,” he tells me. “I don’t think I’ll see much of them this summer.”
He laughs, pushing open the doors to the locker room.
9
Dallas
I slam my fist onto Trace’s steering wheel. “Fuck!”
The same goddamn, smug, arrogant fucking bully that he always was, and now he thinks he can get away with it with me. He thinks he’s powerful, and maybe he can do everything he says he can, but not before I shove his eyeballs down his throat and his teeth up his ass. He doesn’t have my kind of power, and I’m going to fuck him up.
Swerving right, I cross the tracks, splashing through puddles as I enter the Bay. “Fuck,” I growl again.
He has power over me still. I went over there to stand up to him, to threaten him and let him know that the game is on, but the fucking sight of him—beautiful and wet—just reminded me of how good it felt to have him under me. Fighting me, squeezing me, sweating on me.
Or in my mouth, helpless and wanting it so badly.
My dick swells again, and I push it down, punching the gas.
I thought I was rising to the challenge. Letting him know he didn’t scare me.
All I did was give him a show.
“Fuck him,” I mutter.
Pulling up to my house, I see both box trucks slightly hidden down the side of the town garage across the street, under the cover of trees. Macon’s truck sits to my left.
Climbing out of the car, I bolt up the steps and push open the front door.
“What the hell were you doing?” Macon shouts, starting in as soon as I walk into the house.
I brush past my brothers crowding around the living room and head to the kitchen, digging the vodka out of the freezer. “You said you needed more information.”
As if that excuse is going to fly.
He glowers. “We make decisions together!”
I look at my brother, uncapping the bottle. “Don’t yell at me.”
I’ve never told him what he can and can’t do, but I also haven’t given him much reason to worry about me the past few years.
But I’m too damn old now. He’s not raising me anymore.
I tip the bottle back, gulping down a couple of swallows as I head back through the living room. I keep going, past my family, until I push through the door to the courtyard on the side of the house. It’s too hot in there.
Not that it’s any cooler out here, but at least there’s a breeze, and I’m going to hit someone if I get more aggravated.
I’m fucking disgusted with myself…
I take another swig, turning my eyes up to the stars that have started peeking through the clouds. I’m glad Macon kept this part of the house when we renovated. Columns rise around the perimeter, connected with beams, and I drift over the uneven cobblestone foundation as the door behind me opens again.
My family follows me, all of them present and accounted for. Krisjen hops up onto the outdoor buffet, her husband leaning back between her legs, while Army stands at the head of a picnic table, hands in his pockets.
Trace and Iron sit in chairs, while Liv sits in the open window between the patio and dining room, her girlfriend, Clay, on a chair in the room next to her. No idea why Aracely is here, unless Macon told her to be. She lingers in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.
“Krisjen will speak to the council tomorrow,” Macon tells me, catching me up. “And Army will see what he can do.”
I shake my head. “It’s not the cops or the city council. It’s the Ministry.”
Of course, Callum is using the police, but they’re just carrying out a wealthy citizen’s strongly encouraged advice. Backed by their hefty annual donations, I’m sure.
And Callum is flanked by his friends. The picture of their dark forms lurking outside my classroom the other night drifts through my head. It was a warning.
“What do they want?” Macon asks me.
“What the Ameses have always wanted.” I hand the bottle to Iron. “The land.”
My brother doesn’t take a drink, though, handing it off to Trace.