Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
We stayed like that for a few minutes. Eating felt good, and I wondered idly if I needed to have more regular meals. I’d been living on snacks and whatever Ren put in front of me, which probably wasn’t healthy.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but Ren’s not a bad man.” Mona broke the silence, and part of me wished she wouldn’t. “Just because he’s wrapped up in this world doesn’t mean he’s evil. Maybe he’s complicated, I’ll give you that, but he clearly cares about you, and I think you need to remember that. It’s rare to find a man willing to go as far as him.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, frowning down at my lunch.
We changed the subject and spoke about simple things, about the house and the food, and eventually she left. I wished she would stay, but I knew she had better things to do than babysit me.
“By the way,” she said, standing in the doorway, looking back at me. “Do you want me to send you some paints again?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head.
“It can’t hurt. Ignore them if you want.” She waved then left, and I leaned back on the couch and groaned, squeezing my eyes shut for a while.
I knew she was right. Ren wasn’t a bad man, even if he did bad things. He cared about me, and that had to mean something. There were so many supposedly good people in this world, and none of them had ever done a damn thing for me, never put their life on the line to save mine, and yet there was Ren, a bastard, a beast, risking himself to keep me alive. That had to count for something.
Ren came back a little later. He stormed into the room and poured himself a drink before looking at me with a little smile. I perked up, head tilted.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, say it.”
He gestured at me with the drink. “You look—” He stopped himself.
I glared. “Finish that sentence.”
“You look good.”
“You were about to comment on the fact that I’ve showered.”
He pretended to be surprised. “What? I would never comment on a lady’s cleanliness. Although, to be fair, going three days without showering isn’t ideal.”
I clenched my jaw—then burst out laughing.
God, he was right. I was depressed and anxious and disgusting, and if I were him, I would’ve hosed me off.
Of course, I wasn’t going to say that out loud. But my laughter made him smile, and that was good, at least.
He drifted over and sat down next to me, closer than he probably should have, but I liked it.
“I talked to a friend earlier,” he said, almost casually. “He’s a guy on the periphery of the game.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“You know, thinks he’s a badass. Fucking around with shit he probably shouldn’t. Won the lottery and day trades now. I think he sells some weed on the side too.”
“Okay,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not sure what this has to do with anything.”
“He told me that the Leone family isn’t doing too well.”
I went still. “How’s that?”
“The war. They’re losing.” He didn’t move. He watched me carefully, probably waiting for some kind of reaction. I thought I should give him one, but I didn’t think I had anything inside of me, not really.
I slumped back against the couch. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I have him keeping an ear out for more news.”
“You don’t trust Vincent, do you?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“Then what should we do? We’re not a part of any of this.”
“No, we’re not.” He hesitated and looked away, and I could see the pain he must’ve been going through, although I didn’t entirely understand it. “But I don’t think he’ll let you go.”
“Why not?”
“Your father. He still matters, right? The Chicago family still matters.”
“I don’t see how. They’re far away.”
He stood suddenly and paced away. I watched him, heart beating hard. I wanted him to come back down and press his thigh against mine, put an arm across my shoulder, kiss my neck—anything to tell me he was still close.
“It’s about money.” He looked at me finally. “I think the Philly family’s going through some difficulties, and Vincent needs cash from Chicago.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m guessing,” he admitted. “But I think I’m right anyhow. I think you’re part of that deal.”
“So, what, we’re prisoners here then?”
“More or less, I think so, yeah.”
I laughed a little at the absurdity of it, but he didn’t smile, and my laughter died hard.
“You’re freaking me out.”
“I’m not trying to.” He gestured toward the window. “We could probably leave any time we wanted, but I have a feeling that after a few days, Vincent’s goons would show up on our doorstep, politely inviting us back here. I think Vincent’s desperate right now, and he needs the cashflow from out west to keep things running.”