Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Criminal, huh? Only thing criminal on him was that sexy-ass stare he had locked right on you.”
“Bernie, I swear, I’m gonna throw you out of a moving car.”
She cackles, delighted, and I let her jokes calm me down as we go out the back and I lock up.
But I still feel rattled.
Carson Crowley has been out of my life for a long time—and I wanted to keep it that way. Now that’s he’s back, I’m worried my whole family’s in danger.
Chapter 2
Ash
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Bernie squints at me across the back seat of the Uber. It smells like air freshener and old socks, and the middle-aged white guy driver keeps glaring at us in the rearview like he’s about to throw us out onto the curb.
“Seriously, it’s fine,” I say, already starting to feel better. “That’s how things are with my brother, always a fire, always life and death. There’s a reason I’m not involved with my family anymore.”
That, and they’re all a bunch of low-life criminals, but I don’t say that part out loud.
“That Carson guy seemed really intense though.” Bernie looks wistful. “I’d let him get all intense on my—”
“Bern, I’m serious, do not finish that sentence.” I push her gently. “I’m okay. Really. Promise.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but the Uber drops me off outside of my apartment and she runs out of time to complain. “See you tomorrow,” I call out as they drive away.
I shove my worries away as I head inside. My keys jangle in the little tray next to my door as I lock it, slide home the bolt, and grab a glass of wine from the kitchen. It’s two-thirty in the morning as I draw a bath, humming to myself, trying not to think about Carson Crowley darkening my door and straight up smoldering like a forest fire.
As I slip into the hot tub, I close my eyes and take a long sip. I haven’t seen Carson in years, haven’t spoken to him, and haven’t wanted to. Back in the day, he and my brother became good friends when Iain decided he wanted to play gangster. Carson was more than willing to get my dopey bro involved in his street-thug bullshit selling drugs and getting into fights over turf. Meanwhile, I kept my head down, stayed in school, and tried not think about my brother’s extremely hot best friend.
Then Gramps left me Smoke and the rest is history. I left my family behind, cut off contact with them all, and stayed out of trouble.
Until tonight anyway.
My phone starts buzzing. I glance over, figuring it’s Keely drunk-dialing, but instead Carson’s name shows up on the screen. “What in the what…” I whisper to myself as I pick it up. I have a short internal debate, but curiosity—and a little bit of fear, I’ll be honest—wins out.
“Hello, Ash,” Carson says, his voice like a volcanic rumble.
“Carson. If this is a booty call—”
He laughs low and rough. “I don’t do booty calls, but it’s nice to know you still think about me that way.”
“Still? Sorry, I don’t think about you at all.”
“Right, I’m sure.” His chuckle is infuriating. “You did look good tonight. Little Ashlyn, all grown up.”
“Please stop. Why did you call me?”
“I wanted to check up on you and make sure you got home okay.” In the background, I hear a car roll past. He must be outside somewhere.
“I’m fine. Door is closed, locks are locked, and I’m headed to bed.”
“Are you? Here I was thinking you’d be in the tub by now. I called hoping I’d catch you naked and wet.”
I stare down at myself in surprise. “Uh, how did you know I take a bath after work?”
He’s silent for a moment. My heart’s racing and my hand trembles as I bring the glass to my lips. Focus, Ash, he’s just a guy trying to get into my head. Carson’s always been like this—the bastard loves a good mind game.
“You posted about it on Instagram,” he says finally.
“You follow me on Insta?”
“I keep tabs on old friends.”
“We’re not old friends,” I say through my teeth. “And I don’t believe you for a second. I can’t imagine the great and wondrous Carson Crowley stooping low enough to open the Instagram application on his phone.”
“It’s a new world. Even a Crowley’s got to have a social media presence.”
“Strange, here I was thinking criminals liked to keep a low profile.”
Another one of those low, throaty chuckles. “I missed that.”
“Missed what? Me insulting you?”
“You’re sharp. Always were.”
I rub my face. “Carson. Listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on with my brother, but I don’t want to be involved, okay? If there’s something I need to know, then please tell me. Otherwise—”
“I can hear you, you know.”
I tip my head back, squeezing my eyes shut. “You can hear what?”