Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I’d really been trying to let her go, but it was obvious that it was never going to happen. What was my end game here? Was I going to let her walk away and be with some good-looking asshole quarterback? I should. I knew I should, but I fucking couldn’t. The thought of not having her in my life made me sick. When I got back to the bar, the three stooges were waiting for me. I wasn’t going to tell them anything I saw.
I turned my attention to Nico. “I’m giving you a promotion.”
“For what?”
“For being outstanding.” I reached for the mescal I’d ordered and took a sip.
“I’m sensing a catch,” Nico said warily.
I grinned as I turned to him. “You’re getting me an invite to this event on Saturday. If you can’t make that happen, you’ll find out who owns the catering company and I’ll wear a goddamn tux and serve food. Get me in the fucking room.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Nico shook his head, amused. “There’s an entrance fee.”
“How much?”
“Ten-grand a person.”
“For a Jets event?” I asked. Nico nodded. Normally, I wouldn’t have paid for a one-dollar seat in their damn stadium. “Fuck it. Buy the tickets. We’re going.”
For once, Rocco, Gabe, and Nico had nothing to say. They just stared at me like I’d lost my mind. As if I hadn’t lost it the moment I saw Rosie at Tempt that night.
45
ROSIE
My head was still swimming in red wine when I heard the noise. I opened the drawer and reached for my gun, pointing it at the dark. It wasn’t loaded. Dad bought three guns after Mom had been killed that night. Before then, he hated guns. After that night, he decided we needed to protect ourselves, and we agreed. We’d learned how to shoot, we got our gun licenses, and we were responsible for them. I’d never felt the need to bring it out of my closet until Anthony, and then I couldn’t sleep unless it was near me. I used to keep it under my pillow until Dominic gave me a half-an-hour speech about how reckless and dangerous that was. Now I kept it unloaded on my nightstand. After losing my hearing and seeing a dead kid, I never wanted to have a loaded gun anywhere near me again, but I figured if an intruder saw me with it, they’d be more likely to flee. Wishful thinking, probably, but it was the best I could do since there was no way I was going to use it on anyone. Dominic once told me that in his line of work sometimes it was “shoot or get shot at” and after what happened at Dad’s house, I decided I’d rather get shot at. Maybe it was dumb, but I just couldn’t stop seeing that kid dead on the floor. I steadied my hands and pointed at the dark, heart in my throat as I waited.
“Careful, baby. I didn’t take the bullets out this time.”
My heart stopped beating. “Dominic?”
“Disappointed?”
I reached out and switched on the lamp next to me. I’d been meaning to get a different bulb for it, since this one seemed to be fading, but even in the sucky lighting, the moment I confirmed it was him, I felt the air leave my lungs. It felt like I hadn’t seen him in an eternity. His hair was a little longer now, a casually sexy mess that begged for fingers to run through it. His beard had filled out too, though he kept it trim. And those eyes. Ugh. Those eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step toward me.
“Are you that certain I won’t shoot you?”
“No.” His lips tugged into a sad smile. “But I’d rather die by your hand than anyone else’s.”
“Dominic.” My hand shook as I set the gun on the nightstand next to me. I pushed my palms against my eyelids to try to clear my head. “I drank too much for this.”
“Ah.” He chuckled. He was much closer now. I glanced up, craning my neck to look at his face. “Did you have fun on your date?”
“How’d you . . .” I frowned. I’d almost forgotten about that. “Oh.”
“Did you?” His gaze burned into mine.
“I did.”
He let his head hang as he nodded slowly, as if trying to process that. Maybe he was coming to terms with the idea of losing me. I wasn’t sure, but the urge to stand and touch him, to run my fingers through his hair, to pull his face up to look at him and kiss him was so strong that I had to make my hands into fists.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I blinked. “You snuck into my new apartment in the middle of the night, came into my room, and you don’t know why?”