Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You should put that into one of your songs. It might be more believable.”
I flip him off, reaching into my pocket when my phone starts pulsing against my thigh. Sparrow’s name flashes across the screen, and I wink up at Malyk, who rolls his eyes.
“Sup?”
“Mal there?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I need you both to go into the office and put me on speaker. Make sure no one else can hear.”
I nudge my head over my shoulder, leaving the back patio and making my way through the sitting room, up the steps that lead to the foyer, and down to the last door opposite the stairs. Pushing open the twin doors, I place my phone on the desk. I haven’t had time to really renovate much since buying, and I’m pretty sure there are still blood splatters in a couple of the bedrooms upstairs.
The doors close behind me, and I tap the speaker logo on my phone.
“On?”
“Yeah, just us.” I pick up one of the discarded pens on the desk, flicking it between my fingers. The smell is pungent in here. Like what death would smell like if it was left here to rot.
Which it had.
“They need us back ASAP. No exceptions.”
I sigh, massaging my temples. “How long this time?”
“As long as we need to.”
Malyk falls onto a chair, and I swear dust particles from last century blow up into the air around him. “Fuck. I get so damn bored there. Can’t do shit.”
“By shit, you mean kill people to feed your little—” I flick my hand down his body. “Thing you’ve got going on?”
Malyk flips me off this time, and I snicker. Sick bastard.
“None of us asked for this bullshit!” Sparrow snaps, and I hold in my laugh.
“You alright, big man? Been a bit grumpy since a certain brunette rode a wave right into your life.”
“Our…” Sparrow corrects, and the way it feels isn’t something I want to touch on, at least not for right now. “Our life.”
Malyk rolls his eyes, and I clear my throat. “What do we do with her? She has no one.”
Sparrow falls silent. “Cooper there?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, tossing the pen down onto the desk. “The little fuck can’t do shit to protect himself, can’t keep his dick in his pants, and he’s a shit shot. The boy couldn’t shoot a fucking giant if it was frozen in place. She ain’t safe with him.”
Malyk’s leg hasn’t stopped jiggling. “Her mom was murdered.”
I crack my neck, squeezing the sides. “Why do you have to say it out loud?”
“I’m just saying!” Malyk’s hands fly up.
He’s the youngest out of the three of us, but the motherfucker pulls his weight.
“She was murdered. So that means Shiloh isn’t safe. We know that her mother wasn’t the target, she was the warning.”
“So, we drag her back onto the island.”
I chuckle. “Nope. She won’t be doing that shit. We leave someone here with her.” They both go silent, and I take that as my cue that it isn’t a bad idea. “Someone who is unsuspecting, who will distract her enough so she doesn’t ask questions, but nurturing enough so that she feels safe. Someone Cooper knows but is a lot fucking harder to get through.”
“Fucking hell, D.” Sparrow’s voice drops low. “Are you talking about your mother?”
“Yes and no.” I shake my finger, sliding off the desk and making my way to one of the large bay windows behind it. I move the privacy curtain out of the way slightly, finding Shiloh and Cooper on the beach. She’s laughing, so I guess that’s something. “I’m talking about your mother and your ex, Sparrow.”
“Fuck,” Sparrow curses through the phone.
“God, I love having a fucked-up family and no psycho exes.”
We both ignore Malyk’s dig, because he knows I’m right.
He knows that this time tomorrow, Shiloh is going to either sink or swim.
I couldn’t move. I was sure I was going to die. My body curled around itself as if waiting. Just waiting for death to take me.
Please. Please take me.
Sparrow
I knew what I wanted to be the second I was old enough to know what I didn’t want to be.
And that was my father.
There was a kind of horror that hung over young boys’ heads once they figured out who their father was. Like seeing a mask slip from an old friend, and all the time you thought you could trust him, he just reminded you of why you couldn’t. Why you shouldn’t trust anyone. For me, my father was the first snake I met.
I could hear his footsteps down the hall. I knew he would be home early, and I wondered why I never just asked my mother where he really was. I had basketball tonight—fucking tryouts—and do you think he could fit his only child into his bullshit schedule? Nah. That would ask too much of him.