Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I nod a few times, but I can barely wrap my head around that. Luna is taking over four-fifths of my brain.
He lights a cigarette. “When we go in there, you can’t act like you’re a cop or private security, you understand?”
My muscles burn.
He blows a line of smoke out through his nose. “They won’t let you inside if they think you’re gonna turn them in.”
“Will they even believe I’m on their side?”
“They will ‘cause I’m with you, and we’re gonna pretend we’re there to help clean up their mess.” He passes me the lit cigarette while we cut a corner. We walk briskly past more brick row houses and a deli. He hugs closer to me since cars are double-parked and sit half on the curb. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if they know how much you like this girl—”
“I don’t—”
“Now you don’t bullshit me,” he interjects, his breath smoking the cold air. “I saw it when you said her name. I’m betting her dad hates you because you fell in love with her—and you’re attached to scum of the fuckin’ earth.” He motions to himself, then out towards the row houses. “And they can’t know how much you love that girl. You can be concerned about her, but remember we’re here to protect them. Otherwise, they won’t give us what we want.”
“I just want her,” I admit.
He eyes me for another extended beat. “We’ll get her.”
Don’t fuck me over. Please don’t fuck me over.
I thought Loren Hale would be the one at my side, and in the end, all of my trust is in a dad who hardly knows me and who I hardly know too. Truth be told, I’d take Xander’s dad over mine—any day, any night.
But this is the only dad I’ve got at the moment.
Putting the cigarette to my lips, I take a long drag and focus on the road ahead. I’m not leaving without her. It’s the only certainty I’m carrying.
23
PAUL DONNELLY
First time Ollie and my dad got high was at Uncle Marty’s row house. He’s been dead since I was a little kid. House then belonged to his only living son, but he went to prison. I can’t be sure which cousin owns it now, but even in the dark, the shabby outside looks forgotten and unloved.
Grime coats the tan stone siding, and the yellow overhang is faded and dirtied. It shades a black door that my dad raps his fist against.
Door cracks open, and a chain snaps taut so we can’t bulldoze through. Colin peeks out at my dad, then me. “It’s Sean and Paul,” he calls out to someone behind him.
I’m not shocked to see Colin, considering he’s Roark’s son and Ollie named him on the phone. Plus, he was the one who blackmailed me during Halloween. Figured he might be involved in this too.
“Let us in,” my dad sneers under his breath. “You dumb fucking idiots left a trail. We’re here to make sure you’re not sent back to prison.”
Colin hesitates. “Just you. Paul can stay outside.”
“Ah, no. He’s the only reason you’re not all being booked as we fucking speak.”
I hear muttering behind Colin. People arguing. I barely move.
“Roark,” my dad calls out in a hot whisper. “What is this, an investigation? I’m trying to help you out here. Let me fucking inside.”
The chain suddenly drops, and the door widens.
“Thank you.” My dad enters first, and I’m a step behind.
The smoky living room is dated from the nineties with torn floral wallpaper. I try not to rapidly scan the place, but I let my eyes flit around. Where is she? Cousins are everywhere. I spot dark-haired and chin-dimpled Ryan and Patrick. Most are standing around and watching the old TV play on low volume. A news channel.
Some are crammed on the lumpy couch. They pass around a glass pipe.
I look away.
“Your phones,” some guy with a green Eagles beanie demands. Don’t know who he is. He seems a lot younger than me, but by the darker hair brushing against his ears and his broad shoulders, I’d guess he’s one of Raff’s grandsons, like Ryan and Patrick.
My dad glowers. “We’re not handing over our phones.”
“Liam,” someone calls out. “They’re fine. It’s Sean.”
“Paul works for the Hales,” Liam retorts. “He could be recording us.”
“I’m not,” I snap. My pulse tries to accelerate. “I’m barely even employed at this point.”
“Only his phone, Sean,” Roark says, coming forward. He’s scrawnier than the others. Pock marks scar his cheeks, and he’s missing some bottom teeth. “It is what it is. Call it insurance.”
My dad motions to me with his head.
Where is she? I swallow the words I want to scream, and I give Liam my phone. I’m banking on the idea that Oscar and Farrow never lost sight of me on my walk here.