Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
All said and done, it sounded like my grandfather was going to be spending some time in the hospital. Not so much because of the attack, but the underlying issues I didn’t even know he was suffering with.
“Pop-Pop, you didn’t know you were sick?” I asked, holding his hand gently between both of mine, finding his fingers too cold.
“You get to be my age, everything starts not working like it used to,” he said, shrugging. “Didn’t think much else of it,” he added.
“Well, we need to get you tuned up again,” I told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “But Pop-Pop, what happened?” I asked. “Did you see who did this to you?”
“I didn’t see anything,” he said, shaking his head. “Came at me from behind,” he added, trying to touch the back of his head, but all his tubes prevented him. “What did they take?” he asked, always worried about the shop first and foremost.
“Nothing that I can tell,” I told him, watching his brows furrow. “I am going to do a closer check now that I know you’re okay. But nothing really looks disturbed.”
“Excuse me, I just wanted to bring Mr. Whitlock his menu,” an aide said, popping in to bring him the paper.
“You know what they don’t serve here? Bologna sandwiches,” he said, shaking his head. “I asked.”
“Of course you did,” I said, smiling. But the smile only made the tears that were brimming in my eyes pour out.
“Oh, none of that. I’m just fine. Better than fine. I got the ladies fussing all over me. And one of the men too,” he said, eyes warm. “You look tired, Halle girl,” he said. “You need to get some sleep, so you can open the shop for me in the morning.”
And that was Pop-Pop for you.
The business above everything else.
I left him half an hour later when the meds and the long night finally caught up with him, making him pass out and rest.
The last thing I wanted was to go back to the shop. But I did need to check around, make sure the most expensive items weren’t missing. Those, I’d been sure to catalog first when I started working there.
I was just about to reach down to pull up the security gate when I saw them.
Four men.
Standing across the street.
And something about them had goosebumps rising all over my body.
I chanced a second look.
And recognition hit.
Then I was turning and running.
Toward the subway.
Where I would find people.
And in them, at least the illusion of safety.
Though I knew New Yorkers too well to assume anyone would step in to save me if it came to that. I’d seen too many awful things over the years.
The perk of the subway was also getting the fuck out of my neighborhood, so I could sit somewhere and think.
My first instinct was to go to the police, of course.
The problem was, I had no proof that they were doing anything wrong. I couldn’t explain the chilling look on their faces to the cops. Even if they believed me, there was nothing they could do.
There was, as far as I could tell, no video footage of them.
They’d caught my grandfather from behind, so that he couldn’t even fight back. There’d been nothing under his nails or anything like that.
Yet, I knew it, damnit.
It had been them.
Somehow, they’d found out that I’d been the one to deadlock the jury.
I was the reason their brother’s killer was a free man.
Which really just left me with one choice, didn’t it?
To go to their brother’s murderer for help…
CHAPTER FOUR
Cosimo
“Leon, I don’t want your fucking excuses. I want results,” I said, staring down the man who was standing at the side of my table.
Leon was one of my most seasoned soldiers, one with a couple dozen associates under him. And I was starting to wonder if his seniority had given him a false fucking sense of security when it came to what was expected of him.
That, or he’d simply been slacking when I hadn’t been around to breathe down his neck.
The money he was kicking up was laughable. Especially when you considered that I had to take my cut, then kick the rest up the chain to Lorenzo.
“Times are hard, man,” he said, shrugging.
“And when times are hard, crimes increase. This means we have to work more to make good on our promises of protection. They want protection without paying? Get fucking real. Lean on them.”
“I’ve been—“
“Then lean harder,” I cut him off. “You don’t want me having to go out there and do your job for you, Leon,” I warned, watching as redness spread up his neck and into his face.
You didn’t have to give guys in this world explicit threats.
He knew exactly what I meant.
And the fact that I’d recently gotten off on a murder charge made the threat even more believable.