Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“How?” Slater asked skeptically.
“Probably another visit to Connors. He can get it. And I want a copy of the will, too.”
“He’s not going to be very happy to see us,” Slater warned. He’d heard all about Juliana and my visit last time.
“I’ll make it nice. Besides, he’s already told us about Maggie. That’s the big one—the rest is small potatoes compared to that.”
I kept thinking about the Don’s words as I navigated through the Manhattan traffic. Gambini had made very good points. We had screwed with him, we had brought him an insane scenario, just so he could authorize a hit on Don Roselli. Although I could understand his frustration, his wealth, power, and status prevented him from comprehending the position we were in.
An untouchable man like him didn’t have to worry about hits. He could target others but couldn’t become a target himself. But us? We were desperate men. And desperate men sometimes did desperate things.
26
MAGGIE
“Morning,” I said to Julian, when it was his turn to babysit me again. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I felt a little less comfortable around him than I had at first. He’d been the first of the three that I’d felt a connection to, back on that night when the three of them showed up, bloodied and injured, at Zoey’s house. Back when Piper had fixed them up.
But then he and I had gotten hot and heavy at Rocco’s house, and I’d cut things short. Did Julian resent that?
He might—especially if he had an idea of what Rocco and I had been up to recently.
I sighed as I poured myself some cereal. I still couldn’t get that encounter with Rocco out of my head. It had started off as two sad people comforting each other, and it had turned into something amazing. Every time I thought of it, it made my cheeks flush and my clit ache.
But Julian’s distant attitude was bringing me down. “How are things back in New York?” I asked.
He just grunted as he looked at his phone screen. Either he wasn’t a morning person, or he was pissed about something.
The image of the bar at the Rusty Bucket popped into mind. I missed the hustle and bustle there. I missed my customers. I’d called in to work and claimed I had a family emergency a few days ago. That was true—but the emergency was that I didn’t know who my family was. Or at least not my father.
“Thanks for enlightening me,” I said, but there wasn't any heat behind my voice. “How about the other project, the DNA. Has the university gotten the results yet?” He’d taken in a strand of my hair and a glass that Roselli—my possible half-brother—had drunk out of. I was a little unclear on how Rock and Slater had obtained it.
Julian set his phone down. “I was just checking, and no.”
Okay, maybe he wasn’t angry. That was good. “Did you eat already?” I wasn’t exactly a domestic goddess, but I could fix him some eggs.
“I’m good.”
Carrying my bowl, I sat down across the table from him. “So, after we get those results back, what will we do? If they’re a match I mean. Do we get them notarized or something?”
Julian stared at me, his eyebrow raised. “This is the underworld, not the DMV.”
“Well, I don’t know how it works,” I said defensively. “Even with a copy of the will, Roselli might dispute the legitimacy of it.”
Those mesmerizing blue eyes rolled. “You crack me up sometimes.” He wasn’t laughing when he said it, however. “Roselli is a cheap, mean motherfucker. He’s not going to dispute anything, because he’s got a faster way of dealing with this—putting a bullet in your head. We’ll try and take him out first, if we get the okay from the organization. If we don’t…?”
“Yeah?”
“Use your imagination.”
I knew I shouldn’t have been shocked or scared. And yet, at his last sentence, I was both. I wasn’t used to having my life threatened. I hadn’t adjusted to this new reality yet. I suspected it would take a while for me to do that. To make matters worse, I couldn’t forget who had put me in this situation. The woman I had looked up to my whole life. My mother.
Julian was staring out the window, presumably at the beautiful scenery, but when he glanced back at me, he scowled. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not.” Or at least not much.
“I’m not trying to be harsh, but well, this situation we’re in sucks. This isn’t a matter that can be resolved in a court of law. To be honest, it’s probably not going to end well—for any of us.”
His words, and the manner in which he delivered them, chilled me. “Then why bother? Why hide up here? Why not just go back to the city and take our changes?”