Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I strain to notice what she’s talking about, but it’s dark and I’ll admit I’ve been drinking and my eyes aren’t all that great at night and our building is cheap which means the exterior lights are crappy. “I don’t see anything.”
“Those two guys right near the entrance, next to the windows. See them, just standing there?”
Then I spot them. Men in black, waiting in the darkness, not moving. I missed them before because they were so still, but now I see them clearly enough. I can’t make out their faces but a chill spreads down my spine. They’re big and not doing anything but waiting, lurking in the shadows, not even looking at their phones or talking to each other.
“What do we do?” I ask her. “Do you think they’re here for—” I stop myself from saying for me.
She shakes her head, pale. “It’s not the guys from before, right? The, uh, Greek guys?”
“Can’t be. Carmine paid them.”
She hesitates and tries to smile, but it’s forced. “It’s probably nothing, right? I bet they’re just waiting for someone to come downstairs and I’m being totally paranoid.”
“At one in the morning?”
She steps out from behind the truck. “Sure, why not? It’s the city, right? People do stuff at all hours. City that never sleeps.”
“That’s New York. This is Dallas.”
“Come on, we can’t be crazy all the time, let’s just—”
But as soon as I step out to walk with her, a shadow descends on us.
I nearly scream. Fear and adrenaline slam into my body, and I’m ready to fight and struggle and run. The scream gets muffled as a massive palm clamps down on my mouth, and a voice hisses at Cassidy, “Don’t make a sound. Don’t draw their attention.”
Cassidy’s pale, her jaw hanging open in shock, but she nods, and I twist into the big man gripping me against his chest until I’m staring up at Carmine’s face.
It takes me a second to understand that this is real. It’s Carmine, standing behind me, touching me, his hand on my lips, and I try to say something but it’s still blocked, and eventually, I have to jab him with my elbow to get him to release me. When I do, I take a breath and push his chest.
“What are you doing here, Carmine?”
“Saving your ass.” He looks past me toward where the two men are waiting. “Come with me.”
“Come with you where?” I stare around and look at Cassidy. “Is this for real?”
“He was right last time,” she says, looking uncomfortable and scared. “Maybe we should go.”
“No,” I say sharply. “Carmine, explain or I’m going home.”
His jaw works and he keeps staring at the men waiting in the shadows, but he finally takes my arm and pulls me close. “Your father’s involved with bad people, Brice. Worse people than before. My friend Lanzo warned me about it, and as soon as I heard, I flew out here to check on you. And this is what I fucking find.”
“This is insane. How do you know those guys are waiting for me?”
“I don’t,” he admits. “For all I know, they’re two big, perfectly harmless gentlemen waiting in the shadows of your building for totally nice and normal reasons. But I don’t want to find out. Come to the hotel with me. I’ll put you both up again.”
Cassidy’s eyes brighten. “Worst-case scenario is I have to live on room service for a week.”
“You’ll take it easy on me this time,” Carmine says sharply. “I saw that bill.”
To her credit, Cassidy doesn’t seem fazed. “You can handle it.”
“Brice.” Carmine’s voice, his real voice, his real hand on my arm, his real mouth and eyes and that gorgeous face and he’s here, he’s really here. I should hate him and scream at him and struggle and fight, but I’m tipsy and the relief that washes over me is too much to deny.
“Okay,” I say softly, almost amazed at how good it feels to give in. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 25
Carmine
I get Cassidy settled in her own suite—“Seriously, buy whatever you want, I don’t give a shit”—before I head back to the room I’m sharing with Brice. I can tell she’s had a little bit to drink because she didn’t argue when I said we’d be sleeping in the same bed. She looked at me like she wanted to punch me in the throat, but she didn’t say no.
A strange hope blossoms in my chest.
She’s lying in bed, still awake. I sit down near her feet and want to reach out and touch her, but I hold myself back. She looks at me and brushes hair from her face, and her eyes are sharper and more focused than I expected. That’s good, she’s not wasted, only tired.
“This feels familiar,” she says.
“It does. I wish it didn’t.”
“Do you? I don’t know, I think you like swooping in and saving the day.”