Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
This morning, Caleb begged me to let her go, but I have no doubt, no matter what I threaten her with, she’ll risk her life and turn me in just out of spite. The woman hates me.
While I don’t want to kill her, it’s not like I can just drop her off at her apartment in Tennessee and never worry about the repercussions. The entire situation of how to handle her is a complete disaster, but unfortunately, she’s not my only problem today.
Garcia’s guy just dropped off ten crates of tequila at the front of Elysium. Club music thumps through my chest as I stare at the cash creeping out of the lining. A million dollars pads the inside of the containers. How the hell does that psycho expect me to clean that much money within a reasonable time and not get my ass caught?
I kick one of the crates before I sink to a barstool and drag a hand through my hair. I’m seriously killing Gabe…
Marney’s old ass shuffles out from the back, his attention swinging to the stage behind me. “That new girl Caleb hired…” He whistles. “Makes me think about popping a Viagra and making her call me daddy.”
Marney was my dad’s best friend. Not only is he old, but he’s also like a surrogate father. The thought of him popping anything makes me sick. He makes his way around the bar, stopping the second he sees those crates. “What the hell have you gone and got yourself mixed up in now, boy?”
“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing I need is the old man riding my ass about the cartel.
“Like hell.” He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and places it between his lips. “The last time you pulled some stunt like this was when you started cleaning money for Estrada...”
Bingo. “And now I’m cleaning money for Garcia.”
His cigarette bobs up and down as he mumbles a string of obscenities. “Getting in bed with not one, but two cartels! Boy, I told you Estrada was gonna get your ass in some shit.” He jabs a finger over the counter. “And this is some nasty shit right here.”
“Come on, Marney, if it weren’t for Gabe in Los Desperados bar, I’d be dead. I owed him one.”
Marney lights his smoke on a glare. “Yeah, yeah. You got your throat slit, and he packed your ass in the ice chest—then got you to clean his damn drug money!” He blows out a stream of smoke. “Real upstanding citizen, that one.” Like Marney has a pot to piss in when it comes to morals. He’s a retired hitman.
“Well, while we’re talking about the pile of shit you’re in…” He goes behind the counter and snatches a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, then shoves it in front of me. “Might wanna neck that real quick-like, boy, ‘cause I did some sniffing around and found out that Euan kid is Campbell’s nephew.”
The club music and dancing girls fade into the background, and a sinking sensation settles in my gut. It’s been five years since Tom Campbell killed my mother and sister. Two years since he sent a bouquet of magnolias to my father’s funeral.
Marney and I spent years ripping through real estate records and tax files, years cashing in on debts owed to us by police departments and government officials. And no one knew where Tom disappeared to.
I take a swig of liquor, my leg bouncing on the barstool while I struggle to make sense of it all. “How the hell are we just now finding that out?”
“He’s Tom’s half-sister’s bastard kid with some highfalutin Nashville lawyer. Like I said, I had to do some sniffing around to find that shit out.”
“This is bullshit.” Like hell it's a coincidence his nephew handed Victoria over as collateral on the same day I received a magnolia. That was an omen and she’s the manifestation of it. She has to be. It’s a damn good thing I already put a bullet in Rich’s skull because I’d be tearing him limb from limb right about now for bringing her into my life.
Marney lights his cigarette, blowing a stream of smoke through his nose. “Now, what about that girl?”
If she works for him, she’s dead.
***
I spend the entire drive home fuming over this shitshow, and by the time I pull onto the private drive that leads to my house, I’m near losing my shit.
My patience is down to a bare thread as I cut the engine, and when my gaze moves to the woods, that thread snaps.
“What the ever-loving fuck, Bob?” I shout, climbing out of the car. He has Victoria by the hair, dragging her dirt-covered self back toward the house. And of course, she fights him every step of the way.
Bob stops to look over at me, and she claws at his arm. “She clocked your brother over the head with a lamp and ran.”