Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Xander lowered the phone.
“Shit.”
Did God and his team know they were on the news? Could they get into trouble if things went bad? They were cops. Detectives. They had strict rules they had to follow.
He pressed his palm to his forehead.
Xander had been so wrapped up in wanting someone to make him feel safe that he hadn’t thought about their careers, or their lives back in Atlanta.
He had only thought about himself.
His phone rang in his hand. The caller ID said melodramatic mama bear.
Xander stared at it until the third ring. He didn’t want to answer and have to rehash last night.
He swiped the green receiver anyway. “Hey Jesse.”
“‘Hey Jesse’?” she snapped. “Are you fuckin serious? You say ‘hey’ as if you aren’t responsible for the biggest cardiac scare of my life.”
Xander closed his eyes. That was why he called her melodramatic.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You are not fine! Someone broke into your damn house in the middle of the night, again. I called you a million times!”
“Twenty-one.”
“How dare you not—.”
“I had my phone off.”
“Oh okay, well that’s understandable…you had your phone off?” she said sarcastically before yelling again. “Xander, I’ve aged ten years since breakfast!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Just tell me what happened.”
He moved away from the bed to the chair facing the window, glancing out at the bustling city below. “I’m fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’m giving right now.”
Silence.
Jesse liked information and loathed secrecy. She needed control at all times.
Xander could picture her sitting in her favorite ritzy coffee shop with a laptop in front of her, glasses pushed up into her hair as a makeshift headband, lips pressed into a thin line, one hand gripping a matcha latte and the other clenched into a fist.
“Where are you?” she asked.
Xander paused.
He looked around the suite, unsure if he should disclose where he was. “I’m somewhere safe,” he said.
Another silence, colder. “Xander.”
“I’m under heavy protection,” he said, gentling his tone. “For obvious reasons. I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell anyone the location yet.”
“You don’t know if you’re allowed?”
“Yes.”
“Who exactly is making these decisions?”
“People who are dedicated to making sure I stay alive.”
Jesse let out an exaggerated exhale. “We need to meet ASAP. Like immediately. We have to discuss gaining control of the narrative of the break in, your promotions schedule, and whether you’re emotionally and physically ready to resume filming.”
Xander rubbed the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted was to further delay production. And the truth was, he wanted it wrapped up.
“I’ll call you back within the hour,” he said.
“I want a time.”
“Within the hour is a time.”
“Xander.”
“Jesse.”
She let out a long sigh. “Fine. One hour. But please don’t make me have to keep chasing you.”
“I won’t.”
“But, really…you’re safe?”
He toned down his frustration. “Yes.”
“Promise me.”
He gave a slight smile. “I promise.”
“Good. One hour,” she confirmed and hung up.
Xander stared at the phone a moment longer before setting it down.
He left his bedroom and went into the kitchen.
The full-sized fridge was stocked with a selection of juices, soft drinks, sparkling water, bottles of cold brew, cut fruit, yogurt, wrapped sandwiches, and even protein drinks.
He grabbed an orange juice and twisted off the cap.
The tangy sweetness helped wake him up…a little.
He took the bottle with him and crossed toward the adjoining door to see if Cassidy was ready yet. The door to his room was half open. Xander slowed when he heard steady, measured breathing from inside.
Not sleep breathing, it was a regulated cadence.
He tapped lightly on the door but got no answer.
He tapped a little harder. “Cassidy?”
Still nothing.
The breathing continued.
Xander pushed the door wider and peeked inside…and almost swallowed his tongue.
Cassidy was in the middle of the bedroom floor, shirtless, with earbuds in his ears, wearing knee-length black athletic shorts and high-top black Converse.
His palms were planted on the floor, body extended in a long, perfect line as he did push-ups with textbook form.
Cassidy lowered himself until his chest nearly touched the floor, then drove back up with smooth power, tattooed biceps flexing, back tightening, shoulders rolling beneath tanned skin slick with sweat.
He kept going as if the movement cost him little to no effort.
Xander stared.
He knew Cassidy was strong. But seeing him like this was different.
His back was broader than Xander had let himself imagine, covered in dark tribal ink spreading across his upper back and over both shoulders in bold, aggressive patterns. More ink wrapped around his thick biceps and down his forearms. The muscles there strained and veins protruded with every push.
Good Lord.
Xander’s mouth went dry. He was turned on by Cassidy already, but this was just unfair.
He jerked back before he got caught drooling and pressed his spine against the hallway wall.
His orange juice bottle was cold in his hand, but everywhere else was hot.
His breathing had changed, with horror he realized he was breathing just as hard as Cassidy.