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Better Man (Of Love and Madness Book 4) by Karen Cimms

Better Man (Of Love and Madness Book 4) by Karen Cimms

Author:Karen Cimms [Cimms, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lone Sparrow Press
Published: 2020-08-10T16:00:00+00:00


Thirty

BILLY

It would’ve been quicker and easier to fly to New Jersey, but Kate had insisted that Billy drive with Christian, who’d driven his own car from Philadelphia to Maine. While a nonstop flight from Portland to Newark took less than an hour and a half, the drive from their home in Cumberland to Rhiannon’s in Pittstown took about six hours.

Thanks to an accident near Hartford, the trip might end up taking close to eight hours.

Billy’s ass was numb, his shoulders tight, and his head ached. He’d tried to nap, but the stop-and-go traffic had kept him from dozing off. Besides, although he and Christian had slightly warmed to each other, the silence that stretched between them wasn’t at all comfortable. He’d tried to bribe Devin into traveling with them, but he’d begged off, citing some paper he had to write.

Coward.

And how the hell had he forgotten to bring his earbuds? The country shit Christian was playing was causing his brain to dry rot.

“Do you have any other station you could put on? Anything. I’ll even listen to rap. If I hear one more nasally twang, I’m strapping myself to the luggage rack and riding the rest of the way on the roof.”

“I don’t have a luggage rack.”

“Pull off at the next truck stop, and I’ll pick up a bungee cord.”

Christian side-eyed him. “Be my guest.”

Billy side-eyed him right back.

Chuckling, Christian gestured toward the sound system display. “Knock yourself out.”

“Let’s compromise,” Billy offered, punching in a classic rock station on SiriusXM. Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb streamed from the front and back speakers. Comfortably numb, unlike his ass.

Christian glanced at the digital readout. “How is classic rock a compromise?”

“It’s a compromise because it’s not country and it’s not alternative, punk, or heavy metal.” Okay, he was pushing it, but he pressed on. “Did you not see that it’s classic?”

Christian snorted, but he didn’t push it further. If he had, Billy would’ve searched for a southern rock station.

To a backdrop of music by the Rolling Stones, U2, and Bon Jovi, the silence between Billy and his son stretched for another twenty miles. They stopped to stretch their legs and take a piss after crossing over the Hudson River. When they climbed back into Christian’s black Taurus, Billy turned off the radio.

“You tired of classic rock now too?” Christian asked.

“Something like that.” Billy waited until Christian had navigated back onto Route 287 and slipped into the flow of traffic.

“Seems like we did a lot of talking the last couple days, but it’s dawned on me that I was the one doing the talking and you were the one asking the questions.”

Christian grinned. “I got an A in interrogation.”

Billy laughed. “Is that really a thing? In FBI school?”

“Actually, yes. I studied that and plenty of other skills at the academy.”

“I guess you did pretty well if you’re a special agent. I can’t imagine they promote slackers.”

“All FBI agents are called special agents, but yeah, I did well. I don’t want it to sound like bragging—but since you’re my father, and you asked .



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