At that point, he could figure out how to let Magnus down gently.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What the fuck were you thinkin’?”
Reese rested his head back on the pillow and stared over at his brother. It wasn’t the first time Z had asked him that question since he’d regained consciousness, and like the other times, Reese had no answer for him.
Honest to God, he had no fucking idea why he’d taken Madison to dinner. No clue why he’d texted her. Hell, he didn’t know why he hadn’t deleted that goddamn text back when she’d first texted him a few months ago. Nothing he’d done in the past seventy-two hours made any damn sense to him.
“You know he’s gone, right?”
Frowning, Reese lifted his head, stared harder at Z in an attempt to understand. The move made the muscles in his chest pull, causing searing pain to charge up through his chest, so he relaxed once more.
“Brantley,” Z clarified. “He went back to Coyote Ridge.”
Son of a bitch.
Reese looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and wondered if the pain in his chest was from the bullet wound or from knowing Brantley was likely gone for good.
“Why the hell would you do that to him?”
Reese didn’t bother to tell Z nothing had happened with Madison. It wouldn’t matter. It was the principle his brother was having a hard time with, and Reese couldn’t blame him. He didn’t understand it himself, and if their roles had been reversed, if Brantley had gone on a date with an ex—say, maybe Cyrus—Reese would’ve felt the same way.
“Tell me this,” Z urged. “Are you and Madison gettin’ back together? I hope the hell not because she left your ass there to die, Reese. She fuckin’ bolted.”
“I told her to,” he rasped, his throat gravel-rough.
“Maybe. But she left you there to die.”
Reese closed his eyes, wishing like hell Z would give him some space. As it was, he’d had a revolving door of visitors ever since they moved him out of intensive care, and he wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone.
Preferably at home. In fact, more than anything, he wanted to walk right out of this hospital, hop in his truck, and head back to Coyote Ridge. More so now that he knew Brantley had left.
Brantley had left.
Fuck.
What the hell had he done?
Two hours later, Reese woke up, groggy from the pain meds that had pulled him under.
He didn’t open his eyes right away, listening for the sound of breathing, something to tell him whether or not he had company. He figured he did since they couldn’t seem to leave him alone. It was the very reason he’d succumbed to the drugs, let them pull him into the black hole of oblivion for as long as possible.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t lasted long enough because he could still feel the pain in his chest, knew that he was a long way from recovered.
Worse than that, he knew that Brantley really was gone.
*
<<<— STAY TUNED —>>>
I hope you enjoyed the sixth installment of the Off the Books Task Force. Although it looks like they’re in limbo now, I promise there’s more to come for Brantley and Reese. As well as for JJ and Baz, Trey and Magnus, and the rest of the task force. Each book in this series is a full-length novel involving a new case and the continuation of the relationships between them all. And I promise not to keep you waiting long for each installment.
If you enjoyed Secrets, please consider leaving a review.
ABOUT NICOLE EDWARDS
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Nicole Edwards lives in the suburbs of Austin, Texas with her husband and their youngest of three children. The two older ones have flown the coop, while the youngest is in high school. When Nicole is not writing about sexy alpha males and sassy, independent women, she can often be found with a book in hand or attempting to keep the dogs happy. You can find her hanging out on social media and interacting with her readers - even when she's supposed to be writing.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Of course, I have to thank my wonderfully patient husband, who puts up with me every single day. If it weren’t for him and his belief that I could (and can) do this, I wouldn’t be writing this today. He has been my backbone, my rock, the very reason I continue to believe in myself. I love you for that, babe.
Chancy Powley – As always, you keep me going, and I thank you for that.
Jenna Underwood – I always look forward to the random notes in the mail. They make me smile. As do the phone calls (even if I can’t always answer).
I also have to thank my street team – Nicole Nation Street Team – Your unwavering support is something I will never take for granted.
I can’t forget my copyeditor, Amy, at Blue Otter Editing. Thank goodness I’ve got you to catch all my punctuation, grammar, and tense errors.
Nicole Nation 2.0 for the constant support and love. You’ve been there for me from almost the beginning. This group of ladies has kept me going for so long, I’m not sure I’d know what to do without them.
And, of course, YOU, the reader. Your emails, messages, posts, comments, tweets… they mean more to me than you can imagine. I thrive on hearing from you; knowing that my characters and my stories have touched you in some way keeps me going. I’ve been known to shed a tear or two when reading an email because you bring so much joy to my life with your support. I thank you for that.
BY NICOLE EDWARDS