Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Jaw clenched, I turn back and plod to the house, pulling out my phone and scrolling the security app, looking for any disturbances missed, any movements, cameras pinging, anything.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Fuck, I can’t do this alone. Not against two assailants—two.
Apparently, professionals who put serious thought into this break-in.
Goddamn rusty fucking knee.
If I’d just been able to catch them—
No, they might’ve gotten away even if my knee hadn’t flared up.
And were they armed? How would I have handled the second man hiding while I got Thing One down and out?
Worry knifes through me, mingling with the pain.
Sweat drenches my shirt as I close in, mentally putting my shit back together, focusing on the factors I can control.
First, make sure Kit and Cleo are safe.
Everything else comes later.
The house looms out of the gloom, which must’ve thickened in the five or ten minutes I’ve been outside. Everything appears buttoned up except for that damn balcony door—which now has two women standing there, staring as I step into view.
“Get back inside!” I roar, already dialing 9-1-1.
They’re safe for now, thankfully.
Kit’s face looks pale with terror, but it’s Cleo who scares me when I get one good look at her.
Kit doesn’t know what’s going on, but Cleo does.
She understands.
That’s why she’s frozen, watching me, arms folded tightly and trying not to panic in front of the little girl.
Dammit, she knows what’s at stake.
And if she caught a hint of these men, she knows what they came for. Just like she knows I didn’t get them, I—
I can’t protect them.
“Hello, police?” I growl into my phone. “I need to report a break-in on Cormorant Drive…”
I knew the second I heard the alert that it was going to be a shitty morning.
I just didn’t know how shitty.
It only takes fifteen minutes for the cops to show up, long enough for me to walk the house and make damn sure there are no stragglers around.
Then it’s the usual tedium, questions and statements and lots of waiting. Only this time, there’s something rotten underneath it all.
Fear.
A foreign emotion.
I’m not used to fighting a threat that’s so fucking close to home just hours after I brought my daughter into it.
My job always carries risks, but as I walk the officers through the evidence I’ve already noted—a tampered lock, a few boot smears in the mud, and a faded blood spatter on the lawn—I’m already spent.
Barely sunrise and I’ve had enough.
It’s not that the cops don’t take this seriously. Now, the treasure that’s caused all this trouble is doubly compromised.
Cleo has to tell them what the men were after. They don’t understand the egg’s significance, but they do know it’s valuable.
They speak to me like the professionals they are, asking for my camera footage, taking down my insights.
These men are highly trained. They’ll do their due diligence and file their reports.
That’s not the part that bothers me. We all knew this shit could happen, one way or the other, the second we revealed the egg to Fairfax.
Clearly, there was a leak somewhere.
A leak that turned into a spraying flood.
If two, three, however many men decided to pick a fight with guns instead of running, we know what would’ve happened.
I couldn’t have protected my principal in this house or my own daughter.
Fucking unforgivable.
As a father, I have one job.
One thing I owe her, and that’s safety, a chance to grow up and be the best woman she’s meant to be.
One damn break-in.
Just one and my knee locked up like a brittle hinge.
I brought Kit here. I put her in danger. I severely underestimated how fast Mischief by Fairfax would fuck us over.
Leonidas should’ve called in backup when I’m not up to snuff.
The second the cops leave, I find them sitting in the library.
“Time to pack up, girl,” I tell Kit. “We’re going home.”
“Home?” She throws a glance at Cleo, who says nothing. “Um, what about Clee?”
Clee. Already.
Even though they barely know each other.
I don’t miss the way my little girl clings to Cleo’s hand or the way Cleo’s sitting, like her body can shield Kit.
The sight tears something loose beyond tendon and bone.
I grit my teeth together and breathe through my nose.
“I’ll stay with her until we figure something out. It won’t be long, no more than a couple hours. Hanging around this house isn’t an option. It’s been compromised. You’ll stay with Grandma and Grandpop until I’m done.”
“Okay.” She tilts her head, but Cleo gives her shoulder a little push.
“We’re good, sweet thing,” she murmurs. “Go pack.”
A headache gnaws my skull as Kit darts past and heads upstairs.
Cleo meets my eyes.
“You can stop beating yourself up now,” she says. “We’re still alive. No one got hurt.”
“Like hell,” I snarl, pinning my mouth shut. “I’ll have someone pick her up. I’m not leaving you alone here.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She gets up and steps forward, kneeling in front of me. Her little hand touches my knee and I wince, exhaling sharply. “It’s this, Holden. You. It would’ve been a lot worse if you weren’t around.”