Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
My attention returned to the less morally corrupt of the two. “Leith, meet me at Michie’s if you want to continue this discussion.” I strolled around the matte grill of my Gladiator. I climbed into the truck, and Leith rounded on Brody.
“I had our bràthair talking. Why did you mention—” Leith’s Scottish accent leaped from his chest as I slammed the door shut. I presumed he was asking why Brody mentioned the medication. Yep. A sore topic. My knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. Brody, Leith, Cam, did you make sure your baby bràthair took his medication?
The anxiety meds and all the other pills the MacKenzies popped into me went for a swim in the toilet the second I considered joining the military. The mental health diagnoses that would’ve barred me from the Marine Corps, well, I got them to vanish too. Devi had died. And I’d …
I’d needed the rigorous training the military offered. Now, I needed Leith to meet me somewhere he detested.
Michie’s.
Twenty minutes later, I entered the sleek bar, passing plush chairs with mostly Japanese men in them, who wore suits, even on weekends.
At the bar, I ordered a Coke and glanced over my shoulder. C’mon, Leith. The guy should’ve gotten in his car the second he put Brody in his place. I had even sat in the parking lot for a while before coming inside.
The bartender placed the Coke in front of me and leaned her elbows on the counter as if to tempt me with her swoop-necked blouse. “Waiting for someone?”
“Yep.” I glanced toward the door again. Best not to give her any ideas. While those MacKenzies had questioned my sexuality in my early twenties, I’d never wanted anyone. No, wait. I had a thing for Camdyn’s wife back in high school and had almost gotten her away from him with a pack of Nutter Butters.
Who was I kidding? I’d gotten so obsessed with Willow’s safety that Uncle Nolan put me on a 72-hour psychiatric hold. At least I volunteered to be committed that time. I’d wanted to save Willow from Cam. That idiot had the worst case of survivor’s guilt. Camdyn—two years older than me—didn’t get snatched into that car at the park. Back then, though, she needed saving from Camdyn, but she’d done a heck of a better job at rescuing herself than I did, falling into a full-on psychosis.
A soft chuckle escaped me as I took a sip, my thoughts drifting to Jordyn.
Jordyn. Jordyn. Jordyn. I’d only known her for a short time, yet she’d affected me on such a visceral level that guilt and shame riddled me in therapy all my childhood. And I tossed her and all the others into a box in my mind. Labeled it repressed dreams. Dreams that I wouldn’t allow to consume my mind—while other nightmares took those honors.
Devi’s death seven years ago started to shatter that mental box I’d locked everything in. Joining the military, seeing a child locked in a cage? That finished the job. An image of Jordyn from our time in captivity burned into my memory. Never reported. Never … missed. I’d hired an art freelancer with ties to the FBI to recreate her face from my memories—anything to help. Nothing ever stuck. No child on the national missing persons sites, not even the FBI’s own database, looked like the girl in my mind.
Like Jordyn.
Was there hospital documentation of her birth? Had she been in school before someone took her? She was five when I met her. I was six. We’d never talked much. Too afraid of bringing attention our way. So, it took some real investigative work for me to find—
A body slipped into the seat at my side. Without looking, I muttered, “Took you long enough.”
Leith snorted. “You’re aware of Michie’s attraction to my wife during Chevelle’s bartending stint here?”
“Yep.” Might’ve been fifteen, but I remembered.
A scoff. “Our restaurant is a couple of blocks over. You remember?”
“Yes, sir.” Drink to my lips, I chuckled. “Had to see if you really cared. You know, besides your intervention speech.”
“Stop calling it an—”
“Enlighten me, then?”
Leith jutted a shoulder. “An attempt to see my little bràthair. Okay, an intervention of sorts. It just didn’t go down right. We were, all of us, just telling you that you’re … loved.”
It shouldn’t have gone down at all. I’d only wanted a slab of baby back ribs, same as everyone else on this sunny holiday. There was a place nearby—best barbecue in all of SoCal.
Big mistake.
Coming to my hometown to satisfy a simple craving. That was asking for trouble. Someone in my family must’ve seen me and called the cavalry. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by five MacKenzies, relatives I’d cut ties with. I’d gone with them to avoid a scene.
“We’re worried about you!”
I chuckled, retrieved a photo from my wallet, and handed it over.