Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
She nibbles at the gold ring in her lip, apprehensive. “My parents were murdered.”
“I know,” I say automatically, my tone lacking any empathy. “And that made you skip the country?”
“I couldn’t stay in my parents’ house anymore. Not after that.”
So she left and went traveling, and then traffickers took her in Romania. “You’re scared,” I say. She nods. And now she feels safe here. It’s ironic, really. “Were you there when it happened?”
She shakes her head.
“So you found—”
Brad bursts in, looking all impatient, his mouth open and loaded ready to fire some fucks. It snaps shut when he sees Pearl.
She starts to shift uncomfortably on the counter. “Would you like me to watch Maggie while you deal with whatever needs dealing with?” she asks.
“That would be helpful, thanks.” This is not palming my daughter off. This is protecting her ears from what I’m afraid I’m about to hear.
Pearl slips down, and I hand over my baby, astonished when she somehow manages to hold her, wheel the pram out, and keep the bottle in her mouth. Incredible. Brad pretty much plasters himself to the door as she passes. He closes his eyes too. And is he holding his breath? For fuck’s sake.
As soon as Pearl has gone, he visibly deflates. I have never seen him like this. It’s worrying. I completely understand the attraction. Pearl’s a beaut—red hair, green eyes, creamy skin. But, again, she’s barely a woman. “Brad,” I say quietly, knocking him out of his trance.
He blinks and looks at me. “What?”
“This has to stop.” And I don’t mean his callousness. There is no happy ending here. We all know Brad isn’t interested in long-term, least of all with a twenty-one-year-old, so the moment he succumbs to this insanity, he’ll be making a whore of Pearl. As well as probably breaking her heart, and the girl has been through enough.
He laughs, with no humor. In fact, it’s almost psychotic. I swear, if he asks me what I’m talking about, I’m going to punch him so fucking hard. “Fuck,” he hisses, slamming his head back against the door. He’s a mess.
“What is it about her?” I’ve got to ask.
He pushes his fingertips into his sockets and rubs hard before looking at me, serious. “You mean other than the fact that I can’t stop thinking about her?”
Shit. I mean, I kind of knew, yes, but hearing him say it? “You can’t fuck her.” Not if he wants to keep his balls, and Rose and Beau will certainly cut them off.
He laughs again, and this time it’s an easy laugh. “Yeah, Danny, I know that. And since that’s all I’m capable of, I guess I’m going to have to suffer.”
“Or fuck someone else.” Anyone else.
“Yeah, easy as that,” he breathes, pushing himself off the door with his shoulder blades. “Maybe I’ll get a room at the Four Seasons.” His look darkens. “No raiding and shoving a gun in my face this time.”
Hands up, I smile. “Promise.” Anything if it’ll solve this little problem. I’m a fucking dick. We’ve been there before, Brad in a hotel room, fucking his way through women, right after the rescue when he was shot and Pearl arrived. It didn’t work then, and I’m not sure it will work now. “Look—”
The door swings open and James appears, his face as straight as it always was before Beau’s and his nightmare ended. It’s nice to see him looking like his old self. “The anticipation is fucking killing me,” he says, taking a swig of the clear liquid from the tumbler in his hand.
“Come on, we have shit to deal with.” And I need to call Rose and find out why the fuck she’s been called by the school. I take Brad’s shoulder and guide him back to the office, listening for the sound of Maggie crying. Nothing.
I close the door, let everyone settle, and look to Higham to kick things off. “Both Mexican,” he says, pointing to the image of two dead men. “Men of Luis.”
“Fuck,” Ringo mutters, as I drop my head back, looking at the ceiling.
“So whoever did this wants Luis, who is already pissy with us for not supplying his last delivery of guns, to believe we killed his men.” Bottom line, someone is trying to start a fucking war.
“Russian,” Brad says. “This will be Sandy’s doing.”
“Afraid not.” Higham goes to the photos and moves them around, revealing one at the bottom. “These two were found at the scrapyard off Biscayne Bay Docks.”
We all lean in. Two more bodies. Both also with our family emblem carved into their chests.
“You’re going to tell me they’re Russian, aren’t you?” Brad asks, going to the cabinet and refilling.
“Fucking hell.” James holds his hand out to Brad, who promptly obliges, pouring him more vodka.
I stare down at the pictures in utter disbelief. “Well,” I say, laughing but not laughing. “Some fucker out there certainly has it in for us.” Not Mexican. Not Russian. But whoever it is has given Luis and Sandy another really solid good reason to vie for our blood. “Any ideas?” I ask, looking around the room. No offers. “And there we were thinking this wonderful calm and peace was our lives now.” Not true. Like I said, men like Luis and Sandy don’t just disappear, although it would be really fucking handy if they did, especially Sandy, since my wife thinks the sick fucker who raped her—and who, unfortunately, is also Daniel’s biological father—is dead. What a fucking mess.