Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“You’d better cop on to yourself, sweetheart. Just keep your mouth shut until I can get you out of here, ye follow me?”
I fricken’ hate him. I hate him. I can’t believe he just did that in front of me. I can’t believe that Talia was involved in any of this, and now I know. I can feel it in my gut. She’s dead. She has to be. There’s no way she could survive in this world. I can’t even handle it, and I thought I could. But I’m just a big fat phony.
Liquid leaks out of my eyes, and I realize I’m frigging crying. How fucking embarrassing. Proud, tough Mack Wilder from Southie is balling like a little baby.
Lachlan grabs his jacket from the office and wraps it around me to cover me up before dragging me down the hall. The only positive is that the rest of the gunfire has ceased somewhere in the last two minutes as well. The place is dead quiet now, except for the sound of broken glass crunching beneath my heels.
A minute later, I see Sasha, and she runs up and pulls me into her arms. I let her hug me. And I fucking hate hugging. But it’s nice, for a second, at least. I need this right now.
Then Ronan and one of the other guys show up, and Lachlan’s barking out orders.
“Get them out of here,” he says.
Ronan grabs me and Sasha by the arm and drags us towards the front door. I don’t even protest. I’m too weak. Too tired. I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. Lachlan’s shot and I know he’s bleeding, and I’m worried about how bad it is. But then I just keep thinking about him shooting that guy. I can’t decide what I should do, but apparently it doesn’t really matter what I want to do.
We’re shoved into the backseat of a car and then there’s nothing but the sound of burning rubber as Ronan gets us out of dodge. Sasha is still crying, huddling on her side of the seat while I stare blankly at the streets before us.
I don’t know how long we drive for. I don’t even know where we are. It feels like forever. I just want to go back to my motel and take a long hot shower and drown myself in a bottle of tequila. But Ronan’s phone rings, and he mumbles a few quick words before banging a U-ie and turning around. In the complete opposite direction of where I need to be.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Ye’re going to stay with Lachlan.” He meets my eyes in the rear-view mirror. “He took a bullet for ye. I think the least ye can do is take care of him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lachlan
“Where are the rest of the girls?” I ask.
Dom points across the room where a few of the other girls are shaking and crying hysterically. Jaysus. This is the last thing I needed. I’m bleeding all over the place and my shoulder hurts like a bitch. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot and I doubt it’ll be the last. Lucky this time it’s just a graze, I think.
The idea of this being another inside job is what hurts the most. I don’t take to betrayal lightly. One of the Russians has to be feeding the goddamn Armenians information.
I take mental inventory of everyone when I realize something.
“Where’s Mandy?”
“She said she felt sick and went home,” Rory answers.
Sick, my arse. She’s pouting because I wouldn’t have her.
I glance across the room at Sean, who’s barking out orders that don’t even make any bloody sense.
I bend down and grab the bloke who’s bleeding from a leg wound. Unfortunate for him that this particular wound won’t kill him straight away. He mutters something in Armenian before I slam the butt of my gun against his temple.
“Have ye anything to say yet?” I ask. “Or would ye rather enjoy some long company with the reaper? I give ye my word, you’ll like him even less than ye like me.”
“Fuck you,” he spits.
I slam his head against the floor and rise back up to my feet.
“Take him downstairs,” I tell Dom. “Ronan will be along to take care of it after.”
He nods and calls Conor over to help him. Conor is young and his heart is in the right place, but he’s got a long way to go yet. He’s gray in the face and I have some serious doubts about how much of this he can handle.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Detective James isn’t on call tonight.”
“Fucks sake, Conor. Do I have to do everything meself?”
He glances at the floor and then back to me. “Sorry, Crow. What should I do?”
My shoulder is killing me. I swear sometimes I need the patience of a goddamn saint to deal with this lad.
“Ah, what the fuck do ye think? I don’t care if he’s in the middle of his own wedding, ye get him down here now.”
“On it, boss.”
Right after he scuttles off, the boys in blue start to arrive. I head to the bar and grab a bottle of whiskey. It’ll have to do for now.
Chapter Fifteen
Mackenzie
When I thought about where Lachlan lived, I imagined Adam’s Village or maybe even Charlestown. Those would have been the obvious guesses. So when we pull up to a house in Beacon Hill, it throws me for a loop. It’s smart, if you think about it. The unsuspecting brick row house that borders Boston Common and the Public Garden could belong to any regular Joe. There’s even frigging rose bushes out the front.
“Is this like a safe house?” I ask.
Ronan purses his lips, but doesn’t answer. He’s obviously not real pleased to be bringing me here, and that’s answer enough. The murderous Lachlan Crow lives in a quaint little house that nobody would ever blink twice at. Go fucking figure, asshole.
“Sash?” I lean over and almost pat her on the shoulder before I snatch my hand back. I’m not good at this shit. “You… uh, want to grab my number in case you need anything?”