Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
He gave me this long, probing look that I didn’t understand before answering. “Family,” he said.
“That’s nice.”
“You don’t have family?”
“I don’t have anyone,” I said before I could think better of the phrasing. It wasn’t his business. Even if it was the truth. I was all I had.
“Well, I have Evander,” I said, shooting small eyes at the cat. “Even if he would clearly leave me for you, given the chance.”
“That’d be a downgrade, man,” he told the cat.
It was a throwaway comment, but try telling that to my system that had been fantasizing about this guy for months now.
“Thanks,” he said when I passed him a cup of coffee.
“So, how long do you want me to stay home?” I asked.
He’d given me enough money to stay away from work for months. With nothing to do but fret about what I’d seen in the office at the meat shop.
“That bruise is getting darker by the minute,” he said. “Take off as long as it takes for it to go away.”
“They sell makeup, you know,” I said. At his blank look, I waved at my cheek, “I can cover it.”
“Let it heal. Lip too. Then come back.”
“My job will still be there?” I asked, dubious. That just wasn’t how business worked.
“Your job ain’t going anywhere. Doesn’t matter how long it takes to heal. Look,” he said when I still wasn’t convinced, “know you don’t know me. But when I give my word, I keep it. Come back in a week, three weeks, whenever. But come back all healed up,” he said, gesturing toward his face.
So maybe it was, I don’t know, an aesthetics thing.
Objectively, everyone working at the meat shop was pretty good-looking in their own ways. And, being the only woman there, maybe that standard went double for me. I had to, quite literally, put my best face forward.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. Even if the idea of having, potentially, a few weeks with nothing to do kind of filled me with dread.
Well, not nothing to do.
Because, now, it seemed like I needed to drag my ass all the way back to the Bronx to sort some shit out.
As we sipped our coffee, he asked me some questions about the robbery, but seemed to be going easy on me, not pressing me for more details.
“It’s okay,” I said when I caught him checking his phone a few moments later. “You can head back. I’m fine. Thanks for walking me home.”
Rico finished his coffee, gave an eager Evander one more scratch, then made his way to the door.
“Just show up whenever you’re better,” he said as he stepped into the hallway.
“I will,” I said.
And as I closed the door, I was kind of having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he was so casually walking away from ten grand of his own money. After losing a grand or so out of the cash drawer as well.
The man had to be rolling in it to act like it was nothing.
He didn’t dress like a wealthy man. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him in anything more formal than dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt or button-up.
Though, yeah, that watch he had on his wrist? If that was real, it probably cost upward of fifteen or twenty grand.
If he was willing to spend that much on an accessory, then the ten grand was probably nothing to him.
Maybe I could sink some of it into my apartment. Get actual end tables. Paint the walls. Find some decor and hang it up. Make this place feel more like home.
A part of me, when I landed here, had been worried that putting down roots only to get them ripped out again was going to be depressing.
But it was starting to be just as depressing to stare at my bare apartment.
The rational part of me wanted to save as much of that money as possible to use as a ‘get out of Dodge’ plan. In case this shit went even more sideways.
My mind flashed back to being on the floor in that office. To the man looming over me, trying to pull my pants off. To the other man grabbing him, making his shirt ride up, showing me a tattoo on the inside of his forearm.
A familiar tattoo.
I guess I knew the first thing I would be doing on my break from work.
Tracking down the bastard who had that tattoo.
CHAPTER SIX
Kick
I stared up at the building, the morning chill sinking in through my long-sleeve tee and hoodie, and mentally added shopping for a new winter jacket to my list of things to do. Winter was coming on fast. Even the early morning sun bathing the city in romantic light wasn’t providing much warmth.
I sighed, seeing a woman about to head out with a stroller, knowing this would be my only chance to get in. Whether I was ready or not.