Page 95 of Broken Promises

“I’m coming!” she yells, running into the room. She’s wearing jeans that hug her in all the right places. She’s paired it with a Bruisers long sleeve that has “Mrs. Monroe” on the back. Her lilac hair is up in two buns. I think I heard her call them space buns before. I want to fuck her again. Right now. Screw physical therapy. Who needs functioning knees?

She smirks, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. Laying her palm over my heart, she gets up on her toes and kisses my jaw.

“We’re running late,” she says and then leaves the house.

I follow right behind her. The invisible tether that ties her heart directly to mine pulls me along like a dog on a leash.

Woof.

Willa sat quietly during my appointment, occasionally asking questions and taking notes. I didn’t think she was serious about wanting to know more about helping me at home. It was easy to assume it was an excuse to get out of the house, but I should have known better. My woman has always been my greatest supporter, and she always will be.

“What do you think Maverick wants to talk about?” I ask her.

“No idea. He’s still refusing to read the journal. Harrison gave it back to him a few days ago, and Jo said he won’t even touch it.”

“Maybe it’s related to the charity stuff he’s been doing with Millie. He mentioned some sort of fundraiser at the last guys’night. He asked if I could get some signed merch from the team to auction off.” I was surprised when he told me he was still working on his charity initiative, even after finding out Eva was never a victim of domestic abuse. He still feels strongly about it, though. Probably because of what happened to Belle, or because he’s genuinely a good guy.

Willa blows out a breath. “I hope so. I miss when family meetings were just Cal complaining about someone eating all his snacks.”

“Harlow’s been blaming it on Cora so he can’t say anything.”

Willa laughs. The car falls into a comfortable silence until we pull into Cal’s driveway.

“I should’ve eaten the naan on the way back,” Willa says, slapping her palm against her forehead. I chuckle, grabbing the bags of food and following her into the house.

“Finally!” Kai says, snatching the bags from me and bringing them into the dining room where everyone is already sitting. He goes right for the garlic naan, taking a giant bite out of it and glaring at Cal.

Once everyone has food in front of them and has at least taken a bite, Maverick speaks up.

“I got a call from Millie earlier,” he says. He looks down at his hands and swallows audibly. I look at Willa. She looks just as confused as I do. “She wanted to give her condolences for the death of our manager.”

“Jon’s dead?” I ask. “Was his throat slit?” I’m halfway out of my chair and ready to scoop Willa up and move to an island somewhere with new names.

Maverick shakes his head. “Well, yes, but not recently.”

“Huh?” Cal says.

“Are you saying Jon isn’t Jon?” Harlow asks, catching on faster than the rest of us, as usual.

Maverick pulls a news article up on his phone and shows us. It’s a picture of someone that isn’t Jon who also had his name, birthday, and occupation, but died almost two years ago. His body was found in his car in a lake in New Jersey. Scuba divers came across it and contacted the police.

“Millie just heard he died. She hadn’t read the article before calling.”

“How did she hear?” I ask, lowering myself back to my seat, but pulling Willa onto my lap.

“The agency called Logan. She overheard as she was calling me for something related to our fundraiser. So she gave her condolences.”

“They’ve been billing us for two years for Jon’s salary,” Kai says.

“Millie actually has Logan looking into that one, since his label works so closely with them,” Maverick says. “I’ve had his entry revoked at the gate. Assuming that would stop him, anyway.”

Jo’s frowning, and then suddenly jumps up from the table. “Harlow,” she says. “It’s him. It’s been fucking Jon this whole time.”

Harlow’s eyebrows shoot up. “He was here the night Dean died and arrived after he was dead. He said he was with his other clients the day James was killed and went missing the night Nate was murdered.”

Jo grabs her phone and looks at the screen. “He’s calling. Should I answer it?”

“Answer it,” Willa says. I want to disagree and talk all of them into running somewhere he can’t find us, but I know that’s not really going to work.

---