Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“They own the dance studio where Lynn worked,” he says.
I nod several times. Makes sense.
“I’m responsible for the house, per John and Lynn’s will. The insurance company will be out tomorrow. The cause of the fire was undetermined. I wasn’t here when the fire started. I’m brokenhearted over losing the things I set aside for family, sans a few barely salvageable pictures. I haven’t been able to bring myself to share more bad news. Sorry.”
“Francesca, what is wrong with you? We are your parents. Why have you always insisted on keeping important things from us?” Mom gives the same speech I’ve heard many times before.
“Everything okay?”
I turn. Eloise to save the day. “Hi. Have you met my parents, Taylor and Erin?”
“We have. It’s good to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances. You must have been devastated all over again when Francesca told you about the fire. I’m so sorry. Thankfully, she wasn’t home.”
My parents level me with matching scowls.
“Where are you staying?” I change the subject and regret it the second my parents eye the house where they would typically stay in Boone. “I’ll get you a hotel in Rhodale.”
“Nonsense. I have two spare bedrooms,” Eloise says. “Francesca has been staying in one, but you’re welcome to stay in the other.”
“We don’t want to intrude.” Mom gives Eloise her pouty face, the one Dad said made him drop to one knee to propose even though he hadn’t yet bought a ring.
“It’s no imposition.”
“Eloise, thank you. It will only be for a night or two until we help Francesca settle everything with the insurance company.”
I’m forty-one with over a decade of higher education to my name and plaques and accolades to fill an entire wall; I just returned from doing gangster-level revenge, and I recently had sex with a man who might be a killer. Yet … I feel I will be grounded for the next two days. Phone taken away. And only allowed out of my room for meals and to use the bathroom.
Eloise leads my mom to the house while my dad retrieves their bags from the Traverse. A sweaty Jack returns from his usual late-day jog as I take one of the bags and follow my dad.
Lagging back, I offer a half smile to Jack. “Want to meet my parents?”
He opens the garage door. “Nope.”
Click.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JACKSON
Jackson ignores his sister’s incessant calling for as long as possible, and then he answers on the fifth attempt.
“I need an update,” she says, minus a greeting.
“Nothing to update.”
“Take him out and come home.”
“I think Mitchell’s alive.”
“Mitchell?”
“The nerdy guy.”
“You’re the nerdy guy.”
Jackson tosses his phone onto the sofa and peels off his sweaty shirt.
“The one with the eye patch.”
“Donald Mitchell.”
“Yes.”
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Can you give me more than one-word replies? I haven’t gotten laid in over a week. Luke’s on his way home. And I’m wearing nothing but—”
“Shut the fuck up. I have never wanted to hear that shit. Why would you assume I’ve changed my mind?”
“Speaking of getting laid … you need to prioritize that. It takes the edge off. Where did you see Mitchell?”
“I think he’s Archer’s pilot.”
“Probably a pity job. Let him go. What must he be now? Eighty? If you wait long enough, his heart will give out mid-flight, and your mission will be over without you doing a damn thing. You’re to take out the threat, not every person we ever knew.”
He grabs his hand weights for shoulder presses.
“My parents are distracted. Hurry up and take off your clothes. I have fifteen minutes, twenty tops.” Frankie barges into the garage, kicking her flip-flops off her feet while unbuttoning her shorts.
“Just … damn! Who is that? Are you getting laid?” Jessica’s disbelief bleeds from his phone.
Jackson drops the weights with a heavy clank and reaches for his phone while Frankie narrows her eyes.
Without another word, he ends the call.
“Who was that?” Frankie’s eyes widen at him.
“It’s personal.” He resumes his lifting.
“Girlfriend?”
He ignores her with a tense face while pressing the weights over his head.
“Mother? Therapist?”
He holds the weights at his sides for squats.
“Doesn’t matter,” she says. “I’ve got a lot of energy … nervous energy, frustrated energy, and an unexpected revenge high, which is a next-level energy. My parents showed up out of the blue. I feel like a teenager again, grounded for bad behavior. So now I have a rebellious sort of energy too.”
“And why should this concern me?” he asks.
“Well … do you want to get laid?”
He drops the weights again, blinking several times. “Play something.” He nods to the piano.
She frowns. “Play something? Are you serious?”
He nods again.
Frankie pivots toward the piano. “Not what I had in mind,” she mumbles.
“Take off your clothes before you play for me.”
Frankie turns, resting her chin against her shoulder. “Is that your kink?”
“I’m too fucking old for kink. I simply know what I like.”