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Back Nana Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title page
  2. Prologue
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. Part Two
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. Part Three
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. Get on the Mailing List!
  69. Also by Brandon Massey
  70. About Brandon Massey

Monica wore her nightgown and appeared to be down for the night as well. He touched her shoulder, shook it.

He wanted to tell her what had happened, as crazy as it might sound to her. He could show her the bruises on his wrists. Give visible proof of her mother’s menace, and share what Grace had said.

But Monica didn’t stir, and typically, she was a light sleeper. It reminded him of how deeply she had slept last night, too.

She’s exhausted. Maybe I should give her a break. Lily just died and now Duchess is gone, too . . .

An idea emerged in his mind like something scummy rising to the surface of a pond, briefly broke the surface, and then sank as he forcefully pushed it away with a firm shake of his head.

He withdrew his hand from her shoulder. Truthfully, if he had been able to rouse Monica, he doubted she would have believed his story, and he could imagine her suspicious response. My mom made a pass at you? Why would she do that? Oh, and she put those bruises on you, a grown man? At her age? Are you sure that someone else wasn’t responsible—someone that you willingly allowed to do it?

He ground his teeth.

It could all backfire against him, calamitously. He had to be smart about his approach. He had to keep his cool.

In the bathroom, he switched on the shower. With the shower providing covering noise in case Monica awoke, he took out his iPhone and pulled up the contact information for Rod’s private investigator: On the Move Investigative Services.

It was Sunday night and, not surprisingly, no one answered the line, but Troy left a voice mail message anyway. He had to do something.

Because he was getting scared.

22

Leaning toward the wide bathroom mirror, fingers digging deep into her scalp, Monica couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

More of her hair had turned gray. Apparently overnight.

The change affected several regions of her head, in random, swirl-like patterns, as though a painter had gone wild with a dripping brush. Using a small handheld mirror, she located patches of gray at the back of her head, too.

Although her life had been in turmoil lately, Monica was certain the grayness hadn’t been there yesterday. Yesterday, she’d seen only a few gray strands, nothing like this. Surely, if all of this had been there, she would have noticed it.

She couldn’t explain how this had happened, so quickly and dramatically, and it worried her. She didn’t know what to do about it, either, except strongly consider the possibility of coloring her hair, as her mother had suggested.

She dropped the small mirror on the vanity. She splashed cold water on her face, dried her skin with a wash cloth, and began to dress in her workout gear.