Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“You sure look happy,” he said.
I was!
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Good. Then your creative juices will be flowing, and I need help,” he told me, then nodded toward his Mustang. “I have seven handwritten notes in my car that I want to hide, and I need your help to make it special. You know what girls like,” he explained.
My heart slowly started to sink. This didn’t sound like a prom proposal.
“Okay,” I replied, then cleared my throat, no longer smiling.
“I want to ask Kirsten to prom, but last year, she went with Mike Halloway, and his daddy’s money had paid for that damn helicopter banner to be flown over the field during cheerleading practice so he could ask her. Dad is not gonna pay for me to do shit like that.” He wagged his brows mischievously. “So, I’m going to send her on a scavenger hunt. I need it to be a fucking epic one though. Help me?”
My heart began to crack, and a lump swelled up in my throat. Why had I let myself believe that Calvin was seeing me the way I saw him? It had been stupid, and now I would have to suffer the pain in silence.
I nodded. “Sure. I’ll help.” While you prepare a prom proposal for some other girl. No problem.
One
Forge
Present Day
It had taken a full five minutes before my heart rate returned to normal. The way my older brother’s body had tensed as he listened to whoever had called him triggered immediate panic.
I hated fucking phone calls. My biggest fear was that it would be one bearing bad news about my mom.
I’d just left my parents’ house an hour ago to have breakfast with her, and she’d eaten more than she had since returning from treatments she had undergone in Texas the past six weeks. She’d looked so frail and weak though. It was jolting every time I looked at her.
The diagnosis of her liver cancer had been a horror none of us had been prepared for.
Christmas had been very different this year. All of us under one roof, pretending for her, making memories—it had been hard.
“Yeah, we can do that. If she’s that important to you,” Oz said to whoever the fuck had him scowling. Which was something he did regularly so you never could be sure if it meant anything or not. “Get a burner and text me from it. I’ll send you the address, then destroy the phone. Don’t keep yours on you, and if she has one, get rid of it. She brings nothing of her own with her. Trackers can be placed in anything. In fact, go buy her new clothing, shoes, even fucking panties and bras.”
What the hell? I sat up in the chair I’d plopped down in when arriving and paid closer attention. It sounded like there was a female being tracked by someone who knew what they were doing. But what woman would Oz be agreeing to help? Was she related to Winslet, his wife?
I really fucking hoped it wasn’t another political cleanup. The last one had been a disaster. Than Carver had been fun before that shit went down. We’d enjoyed late nights, shared females, and lived the bachelor life. Not anymore. He was so fucking obsessed with the illegitimate daughter of our former governor that he’d become like my brothers. Boring.
Oz ended the call and sighed heavily while running his hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Who was that?” I asked him.
He rolled his head from side to side, cracking his neck, then glanced at me.
“Calvin,” he said.
I knew a couple of Calvins. He needed to be more specific.
“Calvin who?”
“Calvin Sawlan. Our cousin. Mom’s only nephew,” he said, sounding annoyed that I’d not immediately thought of him.
That Calvin hadn’t even come to mind. Hell, we rarely saw the guy. He lived in Memphis with his dad—or he had the last time we saw him. I wasn’t sure where the fuck Aunt Jianna was. She sure as shit hadn’t been by to see Mom.
“What does he want?” I asked, pissed off that he’d called Oz for help with something.
His mother was a bitch. Mom had always checked in on her, helped her when she was struggling financially, never held it against her that she had left her kid to run off with some country singer. Which hadn’t worked out for her. I think that had been husband number two. It had been short lived. Last time Mom had mentioned her, she was getting married again.
“His best friend—a girl he has been friends with since childhood and he considers family—both her parents were murdered,” he said, leveling his eyes on me. “Her dad was involved in a sting operation and was working undercover to weed out Telos Kris.” He said the last word in a slow drawl.
“Telos Kris, as in the head of the biggest drug ring in the US?”