Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to worry about anything ever again. You just leave it to me. Tomorrow, I’ll come for you and we will settle up.”
Her eyes widen as she blinks, puzzling through what I’ve just said. “Are you saying you won’t tear the house down? That you’ll talk to the men that we’ve been fighting and make them reconsider?”
I nod, although the details of how I’m going to fix this may not fall exactly as she imagines. But that’s not her concern.
“It means, when you say you’ll do anything…” I cup her warm cheek in my palm, running my thumb over the blush that’s climbed from her neck onto the porcelain skin of her face. “I’ll be taking you up on that anything. But, for today, you’ll go home. You’ll sit tight and wait for my call. And if I message, you are to answer me, understood?”
A sternness deepens my voice as she nods, and I release her cheek, brushing my fingers through the silky bangs on her forehead. Remembering the way she twisted her ankle at Thanksgiving, I reach down and lift her foot into my lap, start massaging the flesh, watching for any sign on her face that it’s more than just an awkward twist.
“Now, did you drive yourself here or did you take a cab?”
“I took the bus, actually.” She closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath as I rub her ankle. Never before has massaging a swollen ankle felt so much like sex. “My car had a flat this morning and I didn’t have the money to call the tow truck to get it fixed.”
More anger. More rushing need to take care of her for the rest of her life.
The idea of her dressed like that on some grimy, shitty city bus, surrounded by God knows who leering and lusting after her, turns my blood cold.
“There will be a car waiting for you downstairs. And, here…” I let her leg go and pull the money clip from my pants pocket, reach down and press it into her hand. “There’s not much there. Five grand, maybe, but I’ll get you a card with your name on it. I’ll have it couriered over after my driver drops you off. You stay put and keep your phone next to you. Are we clear, Tootsie Pop?”
There’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes as she stares at the folded pile of bills in her hand, but after a few seconds, she’s on her feet. I help her with her coat and send her on her way.
I have things to take care of. Like making sure Buffalino, and whichever goons put their hands on her, are buried in the debris of the next building I bring down.
3
Andrea
“Her numbers are looking good. The doctor said he wants to keep you on dialysis three times a week.” The home health aid smiles as she taps on the tablet. “How’s your breathing been? Any significant changes?”
Jess answers with a shrug and a look my way. She and I barely slept last night after I returned from my visit to Erik’s office, so everything just feels a bit blurry and dull.
I told her I had a casting call for a modeling job when she questioned how I was dressed as I was leaving yesterday.
I also worked a half shift at the frame shop after I changed, and by the time I got out of there at 9:30, I was exhausted and starving, with a wad of cash in my pocket. I splurged on my way home with a double order of orange chicken from The Peking House.
So. Good.
She questioned where I got the money for such an indulgence, but I just told her I won some money on a scratch-off ticket.
It’s not a complete lie. I did win some money, and Erik is the ticket I scratched to get it.
Thank goodness she was napping when the courier brought over the package last night.
Just like he said, there was a black plastic credit card inside with my name on it, along with a grape Tootsie Pop and a note that said, ‘Can’t wait to see your mouth enjoying the candy. Be good. I will see you soon.’
As I recall the words on the note, my insides clench in gut-punching pulses. Why does his simple, sweet manner make me so incredibly horny?
I refocus on the aid, who is politely waiting for one of us to respond.
“She’s been coughing more at night,” I answer, raising my eyebrows when my aunt frowns.
“Okay, do two breathing treatments this evening instead of one. Then two more tomorrow morning. If things don’t improve, make an appointment with Dr. Snyder.” The aid closes down her tablet and pushes it into her black bag, her eyes tracing up and down Jess before she scratches her head, nodding toward the exposed flesh of her upper arm. “What happened there?”