Bucking Bear (Pounding Hearts 3) - Page 71

My fingers move on their own as I give one last message to her.

Me: Goodbye Krissy.

I push the phone back in my suit jacket pocket as the priest begins the procession down the aisle.

* * *

I get home late. My eyes and my body are just flat out tired from the funeral and the flight home. I can feel the need for a long, long hot shower and maybe a pepperoni pizza.

Looking down at my phone, I pull up Grace’s text chat.

Me: Home baby.

Within seconds of my text she sends one right back.

Grace: Can you come over? We need to talk.

Me: On my way.

Well fuck a duck. I don’t even bother changing from the suit as I head right back out the door and into the Escalade. Calling Grace as I push the vehicle into drive, I speed right back out the driveway and down the long road to the main streets.

“Max?”

“What’s going on baby?” I ask.

“Carson has gone crazy.”

“Is he there now? Are you and Hope safe?”

“No. We’re safe, but I don’t know if some guy is watching my house.”

“What?” I ask and I know my voice rises significantly.

“Please, just get here. I need you right now.”

“I’ll be there soon. Is Hope okay?”

“She doesn’t know anything, thank god.”

I am flying through the streets now. I know I am pushing my luck with how fast I am driving but as I start to think more about what she is saying I slow my shit down. I hit right at the limits of the speed and that’s i

t.

We disconnect so she can get dressed and I finish the last of the drive.

When I get to her street I don’t go straight to her house. I take a long couple of passes, watching each of the cars to make sure none have someone just sitting in them. When my very limited skills of observation are satisfied, I pull up in her driveway and get out. It’s not extremely late but I knock on the door quietly.

Grace opens the door halfway before she grabs my hand and yanks me forward, into the house. She continues to pull me deeper, not talking as she leads me right into the kitchen.

Her parents are there, sitting at the kitchen table. Each of them greet me. There is some tension there with the greeting and I am not entirely certain why. Is it me or Carson or what?

Her father motions to a chair at the table.

Grace scoots her chair right next to mine and places a folder right in front of us all. I look at the folder and then her. “Do I want to see what’s in there?”

Grace shakes her head but doesn’t say anything. She is so upset and pissed, I have a feeling I am going to become very mad soon.

Looking to her parents, I ask, “Have you guys seen what’s in the folder?”

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