Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
"I can help with that."
I scream in terror at the unexpected sound of someone's voice behind me.
Whiskey is frowning when I glare at him.
"Calm down, lady," he mutters as he reaches for the handles of both my suitcases.
I huff a laugh because this guy is a breath of fresh air. It's clear he isn't impressed with me, and that sort of makes me slightly more comfortable around him.
"Thank you," I say, but he's already halfway down the stairs with my luggage.
I don't know how weird this is going to be, but after I lock the front door, Twisted climbs out of the passenger seat to open the back door for me as Whiskey puts my suitcases in the back of the SUV.
"Thank you," I tell him before climbing inside and buckling up.
Neither man says a single word on the ride back to the villa.
Chapter 12
Rooster
I don't know how to feel as I sit behind my computer desk.
I should probably turn the audio off, but I just can't seem to reach for it.
I don't know if Twisted forgot that Cerberus has access to their phone or that we record them twenty-four-seven in an effort to keep them safe, but it gives me access to the interaction he just had with Morgan.
I feel dirty for even listening, but I wanted to be there with her in some way since I can't be there in person.
"What the fuck did I do to deserve that rejection?" he mutters as he walks away.
I scrunch my nose, grateful the guy didn't make a big deal about it in front of her, but the sadness in Twisted's voice is a side of him I've never witnessed before.
He's always been larger-than-life, bordering on a giant asshole. It was almost easy to forget he had feelings at all other than anger and irritation.
I could easily question why he cares so much, but I think I'm also starting to fall into Morgan's trap, and we haven't done much other than have a few conversations and play several horrible games of darts.
Thinking of it as a trap doesn't seem right, but I don't know what else to call it. The woman has a charisma that I even felt when she was screaming and thinking I was the guy who hurt Kaylee.
When she pressed her palm over my heart where my old tattoo was, it was like something locked in place. As much as I wanted to think it was some sort of animal magnetism that affected nothing more than my dick, I know better now.
I still have the affliction with my physical attraction, which felt nearly impossible to keep under control last night while playing darts, but there's some sort of innate need to protect her.
I feel giddy when my system buzzes, notifying me that the front gate is being accessed by the code specific to Whiskey. Instead of waiting in the conference room to see her appear on camera, I rush from the room and run to the kitchen.
"Is there a fire I don't know about?" Heathen asks.
"What? No, I'm just getting a bottle of water," I say as I slow to a walk.
I was hoping to look nonchalant when she entered the house because the floor plan allowed those in the kitchen to see the front door, but I failed by not considering that there were still other people in the house.
"Yeah, okay," he says with disbelief in his tone.
"Seriously—"
My second run of excuses fades away when the front door opens.
Twisted is mere feet behind Morgan, but he doesn't hesitate to leave the room, taking the stairs two at a time to disappear. I have no doubt he's going to hide out and lick his wounds for a while.
"How did it go?" Bandera asks as he appears from the opposite side of the house.
"Fine," Whiskey says as he lifts the suitcases by the handles. "Morgan, want me to put these in your room?"
"I can—"
Instead of letting her answer, he just grunts and heads toward the stairs. "I'll leave them right outside your door."
"Thank you," she says, looking a little lost.
I watch as her eyes dart toward the conference room, which sends a thrill right up my spine with the idea that she might be looking for me.
"I was about to make some Hot Pockets," I say from the kitchen, drawing her attention in my direction. "Want some?"
"Smooth," Heathen mutters with a laugh before walking away. He stops in front of Morgan. "You good? I'll let Kaylee know you're back."
"Okay," she says.
"Give her about an hour," he says, looking down at the bowl of strawberries and a bottle of champagne in his hands. "Maybe two hours."
Her smile is wide as she watches him walk away, also taking the stairs two at a time like Twisted did, but for an entirely different reason.