Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
To the side of the arcade was another mostly hidden door with an “Employees Only” sign just below the little window cutout. A window cutout with thick as fuck glass, I might add.
I knew bullet-resistant glass when I saw it.
So Cian might not have been interested in fixing up the alley, but he damn sure put some money into protecting himself.
The man knocked his knuckles on the door, and a shadow moved over the glass before the door opened.
“Biker here with a package for the boss,” my guide said.
The man behind the door, a man wide thanks to both a lot of time in the gym and an enjoyment of food, judging by his rounded stomach, nodded and moved aside for me to walk into the room.
This was a situation that could go sideways so easily. But I trusted my brother. There was no way he would send me into a dangerous situation. Especially without any backup.
This room was completely modernized compared to the alley as a whole.
The walls were covered in bulleted concrete. The wide plank oak floors lightened the windowless space up, keeping it from feeling oppressive.
There were two small seating areas to either side of the room, three of the chairs occupied.
Toward the back was a thick antique desk with a studded leather chair behind it.
And a man standing in front of it.
“You must be the brother,” a deep, raspy voice said.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting of Cian O’Donovan. But he was younger than I’d anticipated. Maybe in his mid-to-late twenties. Young to be in charge. But, I guess, when your old man goes away on charges for the rest of his life, you don’t really get a chance to keep growing up before you gotta take over for him.
Unlike his men, he didn’t seem obsessed with the gym, rather had a more lithe kind of strength, but it was hard to say for sure when he was fully clothed in a black button-up, black jeans, and a black leather bomber jacket. Even in the middle of the summer. But it was cold in this room with the AC cranking.
Cian seemed to like his jewelry, sporting a cross, a thick chain bracelet, two rings, a stud in each ear, and a nose ring.
He had a wide, strong jaw, generous mouth, stern brows over dark blue eyes, with a ‘more on top’ type haircut with a mid-fade.
And a fuckton of ink. Black and gray ink covered his hands, wrists, up his neck and over his throat, and even on his head, partially covered by his hair.
Frankly, he was the kind of guy chicks tossed panties at.
“That’s me,” I agreed, nodding. “Got a delivery for you.”
“Should I be offended the boss didn’t bring it himself?” Cian asked, head tilted to the side, watching me with the eyes that I could only describe as belonging to a predator. Cunning, intense, chilling. Apple didn’t fall from that psycho father’s tree, it seemed. “When I gave him the cash ahead of time in good faith.”
“Should I be offended that you don’t think I’m a good enough delivery man?” I asked.
“The way I hear it, you aren’t in charge. Not the boss, the second, not the road captain or whatever other silly titles your kind has for their jobs.”
“It would have been my right if I wanted it.”
“You didn’t?” he asked, dubious. “Last I checked, everyone wants power.”
“Well, not me. Now, if you want to stop glaring at me like you’re gonna pull a National Geographic on me,” I said, reaching up under my shirt.
I’d been in a club long enough to feel all his men reaching for their guns.
But Cian’s hand lifted, then did a small wave, a silent demand to put them away.
I reached up under my shirt, freeing the gun from its holster, then inspecting it for a second before placing it down on his desk.
“It doesn’t look special,” I said, thinking out loud.
“That’s the beauty of it,” Cian said, picking up the gun, and inspecting it, opening the magazine, testing the weight. “Alright. Run and tell your brother I accept shipment.”
“You don’t even know if it works,” I said, then immediately wanted to kick myself for it.
“Don’t worry,” he said, lifting it at me, and looking at me down the length of it like he was lining up a shot. “If there’s a problem with it, you’ll know about it. See him out,” he called to his men, waving me off with his gun.
Back on the street, I took a deep breath. It wasn’t that I thought I was in any danger there. And it damn sure wasn’t the first time I’d had a gun aimed at me. But Cian’s whole vibe was fucking dark and overwhelming. I was glad to be out of there.
I rode my bike a block or so away, parking on a main drag of a street flanked on each side with stores.