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)
Auntie Peaches flicked at a nail. “She must’ve gone home.”
“When y’all get here?” I asked.
Momma shrugged.
“When?” My growl snapped through the room.
Texas lifted a shoulder. “Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe more. Why—”
I didn’t let him finish. My hands tore at the wires and straps hooked to me—IV line, oxygen clip, heart monitor leads. These restraints had to go. Alarms blared. The monitor flatlined.
Damn, she ran. She ran. “I’ma chase this girl down.” I chuckled under my breath. Journey, you turn everything into a joke. See how hilarious it is when I catch you, girl.
“Bébé, you’re in pain,” Momma said over the medical alarms.
“Nah.” It only hurt if I breathed deep. I got up. Body tilted sideways. Took Texas’s hand, but I didn’t fall on the linoleum floor.
A nurse rushed in. “Big Country—”
“Get me a bottle of your best, sweetheart.” I stuffed the words through gritted teeth, taking a step. “Pills. Cognac sounds good. But I meant pills.”
Her eyes snapped to Washington. Though he’d swapped the tailored suit for a jogger tonight, his deep tone was more judgmental than ever. “Brotha, sit your narrow behind down.”
“Ain’t narrow.” When I turned, the nurse gasped—high and suggestive. My momma spoke with Jesus, and Auntie Peaches snorted so hard her shoulders shook.
A draft hit me. Aw, hell. A cool breeze on my ass. I slammed my hands on the nightstand. A plastic bag with the words PATIENT BELONGINGS sat on the ledge. I reached into it for my pants while glaring over my shoulder at the nurse. “Bring me something, bébé!”
Her fantasy shattered. Face red, she spun on her heel and fled.
Better be to get that bottle. I snatched my slacks from the bag, mind on Journey again.
I’d asked her to stay hours ago, before the nurses rushed me away. Did I speak English or Kouri-Vini? Damn, I was delirious. Still, I thought my blood on her hands meant she’d stay.
My chest heaved, rage mixed with something ugly, unfathomable. Fear. Annoyed, I barked, “Wash, I’ma need your keys?”
“You just had anesthesia!”
I glanced at the clock. Hours had passed. It’d worn off. Mostly. “Your keys,” I growled, mentally executing a plan to get rid of this mildly comforting, natural booty fan.
“If you scratch my baby …” Washington ground out a warning.
The rest of his threat didn’t penetrate because my pain level skyrocketed from ten to a trillion while I shoved my naked behind into my slacks. Wished they were sweats. A size or two bigger. I forced the keys from Washington’s fisted hand. “If I wreck it—”
My big brother made a gurgling noise as if the same knife that slid into me had lunged into his heart. I smirked. “I’ll buy you two more. Twins.”
“Okay. All of y’all my witnesses.” Washington smirked, then he sighed. “Should I drive?”
“Nah.” This was between me and Journey.
As I took manly baby steps, Momma snapped, “Drive safe, because you can’t afford to compensate me if something happens to you. I’ll kill you myself!”
Understood.
Did I really? I just needed to not pull out my stitches.
When I got to the lot, I didn’t have to call my brother to ask where his car was. With one press of a button, lights flared from the accessible area.
“Who is this man?” I muttered, hunched as I walked to the car. My brother had never gotten a parking ticket.
Not before his son.
Or his divorce. Now he’d parked his fully-capable ass in the accessible lot.
I sank into the Bentley sports car, thanked my hammies for all they’d ever done on the field, then disrespected Momma’s wishes while driving like I had extra lives.
If Journey vanished with no word, no promise, I’d never find her again.
And the part that burned me worse than the knife in my back?
I couldn’t bring myself to let go.
The Bentley purred when I shifted gears onto the street where Journey lived.
I cut the engine, pulled the keys at the sight of two figures. One gorgeous and shapely, the other short, a shock of tiny twisties outlined in the night. Journey and Darius argued at the door. Blue lights flashed on the ground with every stomp of his foot.
Man, all of Momma’s prayers and my physical fitness helped me climb out.
“My toys. Mommy, I can’t leave Brody and …” Darius cried, trying to tug from Journey.
She flicked a fearful glance over her shoulder, eyes closing to shut out the bright lights I left on her. And her lies.
She hadn’t verbally lied. But those eyes? They told a lie every time they sparkled in my face.
Those hips? Swayed for me. Definitely lied … with each sway, they said, I’ll never leave.
That mouth?
Made for me.
Yes, she’d lied to Momma the day we met. Now? She’d lied. To. Me.
Damn right there’d be consequences.
She squeaked, holding Darius at her rear, hand cupped at her forehead to shade the bright light. “Montana …”