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“Kat?”
“Still here, Maze.”
She laughed. “Sorry about that, one of my high rollers just requested a twelve-course meal around molecular gastronomy, if you can believe it.”
“I can,” I told her, my tone dry, almost droll.
“Anyway, tonight at five works for you, right? Also, I’m thinking of inviting Vanessa or would that be too insensitive since she just lost Lance?”
Leave it to Maisie to think of everyone else while she planned her own damn wedding.
“Why don’t you ask her and see what she says? Tell her she’s had a wedding and you could use her input. Give her something to do while she grieves.”
Over the past week I’d learned a valuable lesson in the art of burying one’s heartache in the monotony of work.
“That’s a really good idea, Kat. Thanks.”
“No problem. You want me to pick you up from Emerald Isle?”
“Yes,” Maisie said on a relieved sigh. “GPS said it’ll take twelve minutes to get there so, quarter ‘til five?”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
“Perfect. Later, Sis.” The call disconnected and I couldn’t help but smile at the endearment, or the abrupt way she ended the call. Maisie didn’t realize it yet, but she was starting to be a true Ashby.
Wedding planning was exactly the distraction I needed, but it was just after noon and there was still work to be done, starting at House of Ashby. For some damn reason, the parking lot was packed, but I learned my lesson last time and drove up and down the aisles in search of a spot that was out in the open and visible to the security cameras.
“Yes!” I got a little too excited about the little red car that backed out of a convenient spot. I pumped my fist while the car filled with fight groupies honked and whooped at the guys standing at the entrance, waving with big goofy grins on their faces. Gotta find my happiness where I can.
It had been five days and not one fucking word from Terry, which pissed me off. And hurt my feelings. The sadness didn’t come right away because I thought, deep in my heart, that he’d realize he had his head too far up his ass and come to me. But days passed and he didn’t even call or text. Simply put, Terry had dumped me and forgotten me. Easily.
Now my anger blended with hurt. A fucked up combination that made it easy to work through the pain. So I worked. A lot. Catching up on the things I’d let slide while filling in for fuck face Jasper, which included responding to emails while I marched toward the gleaming glass doors of House of Ashby.
A publication wanted to interview Rachel Cruz, and several wanted Emmett to do a few speaking engagements on mental toughness. Rachel was a team player and happy to be at the top of her game, but Emmett was another story altogether. The man’s dislike of the public eye was almost pathological.
I should have been paying attention to where I was going, given everything that was going on with Brendan Rhymer, Mueller and even The Crusaders, but my head was too full of too many other things and my forward momentum was halted by a big wall of muscle.
“Excuse me,” I said absently without looking up.
I moved to the right and the wall moved with me. “Ms. Ashby.”
I looked up at the unfamiliar deep voice that sounded almost shy. I frowned and stopped on the asphalt driveway. “Rob, it’s you.” Ravager, the dude who refused to take a dive for us at the big fight and caused too much shit to measure. “Where have you been?”
He shrugged. “Look, Ms. Ashby, I’m sorry about all the shit that went down, but I really need to talk to—”
“Oh shit!” I screamed as a brown van slammed into Ravager’s right side and sent his big body flying through the air. I couldn’t look away as time seemed to slow while his body made its way back to earth with a sickening crack of bones and breaking glass.
“Rob!” I took two steps toward the big man, splayed out on top of a crushed silver sedan before someone grabbed my hair and yanked me back. Hard.
“What the…fuck?” Another yank took me to the ground.
“You should really learn to mind your own fucking business, bitch.” The unfamiliar deep voice struck me dumb for a moment, and when I tried to blink my eyes into focus, the only thing I saw was a big black silencer pointed at my head.
I rolled away just before the hitman fired the first shot and scrambled to my feet, nearly twisting my ankle on the gravel that kicked up from a pothole somewhere nearby. I got a good look at him, but it did me no good as I took one step back and then another. Cowardly bastard wore a mask.
