Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 182255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 911(@200wpm)___ 729(@250wpm)___ 608(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 911(@200wpm)___ 729(@250wpm)___ 608(@300wpm)
She melted against him again, her arms circling his waist. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He did his best not to wince as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “Just...a lot on my mind.”
“I know. This weekend was a lot—the wedding, telling your mom about us, and now the baby…”
“Especially the baby.”
The weight of all his secrets sat heavy in his chest when she tilted her head up, studying his face. “It’s going to be okay, Seth. Really. It has to be.”
Odds were, she was right. Problem was, he didn’t like that the chance of violence, loss, and heartbreak wasn’t zero. But that wasn’t her fault.
He kissed her softly, letting himself bask in her for a long moment. Then he pulled back and forced a smile. “You’re right. And as much as I’d love to hold you—and do other pleasurable things to you—brunch is starting soon. Mom could use some help when you’re ready.”
“I’d love that, too, but…” She cast a meaningful glance toward Beck’s closed door across the hall. “We can’t. But when you get home on Tuesday…”
She trailed a finger down his chest and sent him a tempting smile.
He grabbed her wrist, his throat tight. “I’ll drown you in orgasms.”
Her smile slanted to something more alluring. “Please do.”
He kissed her one more time, inhaling her in a desperate moment. Then he stepped back. “Unfortunately, I have to wake Hudson and hop in the shower, or we won’t be ready in time.”
Seth didn’t wait for her reply, just grabbed his clean clothes and ducked into the hallway, heading for the shower.
He locked the door behind him, turned on the faucet, and stood staring at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.
The envelope was sitting in his nightstand like a ticking time bomb. His father’s handwriting. His dire warning. And the evidence to solve his murder?
Every minute that ticked by without Seth actually knowing, was killing him.
There’s real danger. I’m afraid for you, your mother, and your brothers.
Seth spit out his toothpaste and stashed his toothbrush before he braced his hands on the basin, his knuckles going white.
Fuck, he shouldn’t dig.
But if the evidence in that storage unit could end the suspicion and uncertainty around his dad’s death—once and for all…
What if it got everyone killed?
Cursing, Seth stepped into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on his shoulders as he reached for the soap, going on autopilot while his thoughts churned.
Maybe there was nothing left in the storage unit. Sixteen years was a long time. For the evidence to still be there, his dad would’ve had to have prepaid all this time. Who the hell did that, especially someone who had five kids and lived on a cop’s salary?
Seth sighed. Maybe he was stressing about nothing. Maybe he was too late and everything his dad died for had been tossed out for non-payment or featured on an episode of Storage Wars.
But he had a sinking feeling it was still there. Still waiting for him.
He braced his hands against the shower stall and let the water beat on his shoulders.
His father had suspected he was going to die. Known he was knee-deep in something dangerous enough to warrant hiding evidence instead of trusting his own department.
Seth clenched his fists and resisted the urge to punch the wall. He really shouldn’t dig into this cesspool of a case again. Not after it had already cost him Autumn and Tristan. Not when Heavenly was carrying his child.
But his father had hidden his evidence and trusted him—and only him—to find it for a reason.
How could he just ignore that?
Beck leaned against the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, coffee mug in hand, watching the organized chaos unfold.
“Carl, could you grab that folding table from the garage?” Grace called from the kitchen, her voice bright. “The one against the back wall?”
“On it.” Carl set down his coffee mug and headed for the garage, side-stepping a cluster of Grace’s neighbors who were visiting in the kitchen.
Beck followed suit and trailed him, lifting one end of the table. “Figured you could use a hand.”
“Appreciate it.” Carl grabbed the other end.
Together, they navigated the narrow doorway back into the house and into the dining room. Despite the fact the formal table was groaning under platters of bagels, pastries, and fruit, Grace had apparently decided to set out more food.
“Where are we supposed to put this?” Beck asked.
Carl grimaced as they maneuvered around a pair of mismatched chairs someone had dragged in from god-knew-where. “By the window, I guess.”
Beck eyed the available floor space with a raised brow. “That won’t be tricky.”
Carl sighed. “She’s been planning this for weeks. I’ve learned not to question the vision.”
Beck bit back a grin. “Smart man.”
They set the table up, and Carl clapped him on the shoulder, the gesture both welcoming and accepting, before heading back toward the kitchen.