Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Her brows pulled, her eyes taking me in from head to toe. I watched her expression jump from one emotion to another as she studied me. It was as if her shock was just wearing off, and she was finally realizing that the person standing in front of her wasn’t the one she used to know. She swallowed as she continued to size me up. I wondered if she was trying to figure out ways to get out of this. She had to know she couldn’t.
“What the hell happened to you?” she whispered.
“What the hell happened to me?” I scoffed. “You’re the one sleeping with a gun under your pillow.”
“I’m . . .” she let out a single laugh. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t know shit about me either, Roselyn. Pack a fucking bag.”
Finally, she started moving. I watched her every move as I tried to rein in my anger. The sadness in her eyes and the judgment in her tone made me go from curious to pissed off in a matter of seconds. She was right, though. I really didn’t know her anymore but I intended to, because the Rosie I knew wouldn’t have even looked at a gun, let alone owned one, and definitely would never have slept with one under her pillow. That was a stupid fucking move, but I’d have to save the gun safety conversation for another day. Was she sleeping with it because of what happened ten years ago? That would actually make sense.
“I have to call my brother,” she said, “And I don’t know how to get ahold of my dad, but he’s in prison upstate and . . . what if he gets hurt because of this?” She stopped packing and looked up at me. The tears filling her eyes hit me right in the gut. “He gets out next month. He can’t get hurt now.”
“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about him,” I said.
She nodded and I knew she believed me. Trusted me. It was a wild concept, all things considered, but I’d take it and prove to her that she could. I’d have to find out more information on her dad. He used to launder money for some of the old timers back home, but despite that, he’d always been a good man, a devout Catholic. I wondered what the hell landed him behind bars and how long he’d been there. I wondered what the fuck that meant for Rosie and Santi. I didn’t like it. I also didn’t like knowing that she’d lived in the same city as me and I didn’t know it until my brother pulled this idiotic shit.
I cleared my throat. “Where’s your little brother?”
“NYU. He stays in the dorms.”
“He should be safe there,” I said. “What did you tell Gabe? Why would he be running?”
“I told him a lot of things.” She bit her lip as if trying to remember what may have caused this. “He mentioned that he was doing some accounting for Tommy Costello and found some discrepancies in his account. He must’ve been drunk or high when he said it, but that led to me asking about the shell company I knew they had. Gabe asked me what I was talking about, so I told him what I knew — that Tommy shares a company with some other guys. Russians, Mexicans, some Colombians, Turks.”
“Sounds like a trip to fucking Epcot,” I said. “Aren’t you a bartender there? How would you know all of this?”
“Because I heard them discussing it.”
“Again, how?”
“They meet on Tuesdays when the club is closed to the public.” She lowered her gaze and focused on her task again. “Sometimes Tommy asks me to come in on those days.”
“To do what?” I asked, not intending my question to come out as harshly as it did, but there was no use in taking it back now.
“Make drinks during the meeting, sometimes dance.” She averted her eyes when she said that last part. I didn’t like it. “It’s just a way to pick up an extra shift and make more money.”
“Dancing,” I repeated, searching her face. There was something she was leaving out and the way she was still avoiding looking at me rubbed me the wrong way. If she was stripping for him and his friends, she was probably also fucking him. I’d heard enough stories about Tommy and Anthony Costello to know that nothing good came to women who were around them. “Are you fucking Tommy?”
“No.” Her eyes snapped up.
“Are you fucking Anthony?” I asked. She looked away again, swallowing hard, which further fueled my anger. “Does my brother know?”
“What difference does it make whether or not your brother knows?” Her eyes narrowed on mine for a moment.
Now my brother’s message was becoming clearer. He wanted me to keep an eye on her because of Anthony Costello. I wondered what he’d seen, what he’d heard, why the fuck he’d be dumb enough to leave this woman behind. He must’ve been desperate to leave her in my care. This conversation was yet another sign that they weren’t together though. Maybe Gabe wasn’t into her anymore. Who even knows if Gabe was into her to begin with or if he was just with her because he knew I wanted her. That thought left a sour taste in my mouth. I shook it away and focused on the subject at hand.