“Chill out, Mills. Zoey’s here and has it under control. Try to enjoy the rest of your night. I know I will.” Jet grins one more time, and as he reaches to press the little red button to end the call, I get a glimpse of my eighteen-year-old daughter, pressed up against the wall of the living room with some guy’s tongue down her throat.
I blanch as Bull’s hands squeezes down on his phone, threatening to break it in half. Jet’s head whips up and sees exactly what we’re seeing and just seconds before the screen goes black, I hear Jet’s voice booming through the phone in a tone that’s scary enough to bring even the toughest man to his knees. “Oh, fuck no.”
And just like that, Bull and I grab our things.
It’s going to be one hell of a long night.