Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
He spluttered through a groan and fell to the ground. I was far from done, but I didn’t need an audience again. Giving up on my heart rate returning to normal anytime soon, I pulled out my work phone and switched on the signal on an app Eric used to track us in emergencies. Most Sons left it on at all times.
I wasn’t most Sons.
“You wanna discuss mothers, huh?” I stared down at the sorry sack of shit and forced some air into my lungs. Fuck, that hurt everywhere. “Once I’m through with you—you know, after I’ve pissed on your face and severed your head—I’ll send it to your fucking mother.”
Suddenly it felt as if the ground was rushing toward me, and I had to steady myself against the wall.
Sweet mother of Christ, I was done. I leaned forward, resting my hands on my thighs, and cursed at the pain.
Less than a minute later, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up, and I didn’t even have the time to reflect on whether or not it was a friend before Thomas, Max, and Red Mikey poured out.
“You okay, son?” Thomas asked, hurrying over to me. He snapped his fingers to the other two, motioning for them to get the Italian heap on the ground into the car.
I nodded jerkily and put a hand to my side. “Yessir.” See, I could still be polite. The man was married to Shan’s sister, and after everything Thomas had done for us during the war, it didn’t matter if I ranked higher. He’d earned everybody’s respect ten times over.
He was quiet and worked in the background. After I wreaked havoc, he entered the picture as our most skillful cleaner, and he’d made it possible for us all to get away with murder. It made him invaluable, like Eric. What Eric did online, with surveillance and digital footprints, Thomas did with DNA and any other traces we left behind.
“You’re wounded,” he stated. “Let’s go. Tell me every location we might find your blood on the way.”
Sounded like a fun pastime.
Chapter 9
I wasn’t going to say this out loud with others around, but Finn could suck my dick. Well, I could say it to his face, just without people hearing. ’Cause fucking hell was I mad at him.
Who was he to decide that I’d had enough for one night? Huh?
“You’re on my side, right? You realize I should be there,” I said.
Red Mikey side-eyed me, only to go back to watching the elevator count go higher up. “You can barely stand, sir.”
“Oh, what the fuck do you know,” I replied irritably. I’d remove my arm from around his shoulders if I didn’t suspect my dizziness stemmed from blood loss.
I was in no mood to pass out.
Once we reached my floor, Red Mikey ushered me out of the elevator and walked carefully like the gentle giant he was. He could’ve been a linebacker, and the neck tattoo gave him a bit of an edge, but once you got to know the guy, you just found him endearing. He’d literally left Chicago for Philly because he wanted to be part of a crew that kept the streets safe for Finn’s wife.
Tonight he’d also made sure my car remained safe, so I couldn’t be too annoyed with him.
“Fuck.” I winced and clutched my side. Every step toward my condo felt like another knife was being jammed into me. “My keys are in my right pocket.”
Red Mikey retrieved them and turned the lock, and I just hoped against hope that Shan was asleep.
Thomas had patched me up temporarily, and I could do a more thorough job as soon as I was behind closed doors in my bathroom. But tonight clearly wasn’t my night. Shan was seated on the couch when I walked in, and the moment he spotted Red Mikey behind me, he shot up and walked over.
“Michael, what a surpr—what the fuck happened? You’re hurt.” So much for finding privacy now. Shan hurried the last bit and took over, quite possessively. Not that I was surprised. He was as overprotective as ever of his close family. “Tell me what happened, son.”
Ugh.
Son.
It was one thing when Thomas said it. That was only a generational thing. With Shan, I could never be sure considering our history.
“Some Italian scum nicked me with a knife. I’ll be fine.” It was best to downplay it.
“Mr. Walsh said otherwise.” Red Mikey fucking tattled on me. “He might need stitches, but we didn’t have the equipment on hand.”
“Snitches end up in ditches,” I whispered to him.
“Thank you for bringing him home, Michael. I’ll call Thomas later for the details.” Shan tightened his arm around my middle and began ushering me toward the couch. “Is anyone else hurt?”
“No, sir,” Red Mikey replied. “Feel better soon, Ford. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”