Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 70661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
“Goodbye, Caspian.” I turned my back to him, knowing there was a serious chance he would draw on me and put a bullet in my back. But if my father really did such a thing, I wouldn’t have much motivation to live anyway. I’d lost my mother, my sister was in rehab, and my father disowned me. I had no one.
There was only one family member left, one person who shared my name.
My wife.
I worked around the clock for the next few days. As long as I stayed busy, I didn’t think about the threat Caspian had unleashed. He wanted to murder my wife and toss my body in with hers. I wasn’t afraid of death because I saw it as merciful. When the human body collapsed under intense pain, opting out was the best gift that could be given.
But it disturbed me that my own father wanted to murder me.
If my mother were still alive, she’d beat the shit out of him.
I finished dinner with a client in the city, one of my big vendors that operated restaurants throughout the country. We talked numbers and increasing production to meet those demands, and then we parted ways.
I walked to my car in the darkness, thinking about the business I’d just grabbed. When my family business had existed in the underworld, our lives had revolved around money, drugs, and territory. The cheese business took a back seat. But now it was my only priority since I had become a law-abiding citizen. It was a much more relaxing livelihood.
But I couldn’t enjoy it because I had two psychopaths for enemies.
I turned the corner and was approaching my Bugatti when my phone rang in my pocket. I glanced at the screen and saw Arwen’s name. I got into the car, started the engine, and then took the call through the car. “Yes?”
“We haven’t spoken in three days, and that’s how you greet me?”
I turned the car around and sped through the streets, driving like an asshole because I was an asshole. The corner of my mouth rose in a smile at her attitude, noting the way she told me off when others were too scared to do the same. “It’s been a long day.”
“I doubt it.”
With one hand on the wheel, I tried to focus on the road instead of picturing her beautiful face. She was probably at home in her bedroom, wondering when I would be back. “Is there something you needed?”
“Do I have to need something to talk to you?”
I wasn’t used to this kind of relationship, where I had someone I spoke to on a daily basis. We didn’t discuss business or crime. We didn’t discuss anything in particular, just as I would with a friend. She became someone in my inner circle, someone like Kent. But I also fucked her…which was interesting. “Most people want something from me.”
“Well, I want to talk to you. I guess that’s something.”
My eyes stayed on the road, but my mind was focused on the sound of her voice. Even when she wasn’t singing, the tone of her words was heavenly. If I didn’t know she was a singer, I would have guessed it just by listening to her talk. It was soothing to my ears, calming my irritated nerves and dropping my blood pressure. Having an affectionate wife should irritate me, but I appreciated her concern…considering my own father didn’t give a damn about me. “And what do you want to talk about?”
“How about we start with your day?”
My mother used to ask me that when I came home from school. She even asked me that when she called me as an adult. Even though it was undeniable that I had aged into a grizzled man, she still talked to me as if I’d just walked in the door from school. It used to annoy me, but now I missed it. “I just finished dinner with a client. He wants to place a big order, but since the production process is so finite, it’s complicated. We found a solution to the problem.”
“That sounds fun. Talking about cheese over dinner isn’t a bad way to make a living.”
And being the wife of a rich man wasn’t a bad way to make a living either.
“What are you doing now?”
“Driving home.”
“Alone?” There was a slight hesitation in her voice, as if she feared there was a woman sitting in the passenger seat at that very moment.
“Yes. Too tired to hit the bars.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’ve been home much for the last few days. What have you been up to?”
“Why does this feel like an interrogation?”
“It’s not. Like it or not, you’re my closest friend, Maverick.”
I’d noticed the way she’d become closer to me, coming into my room to talk rather than screw. She texted me more often than she used to, telling me about her day when I didn’t ask. “I’ve been working a lot.”