Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“How many more of you does Santoro have? You got a whole pack of crooked cops?”
“Don’t give me that shit, Quinn. Everyone knows you run all those fucking Irish pricks and they do your bidding like a bunch of fucking trained lap dogs. A man’s got to feed his family.”
“Sounds like a whole lot of rationalization to me.”
“You trying to piss me off? I’m a goddamn cop. I can kill you right here and now, plant some drugs on your body, and claim self-defense. I’d go to a grand jury and end up with a slap on the wrist. Go ahead, test me.”
“You know how everyone says never kill a cop? Sometimes I wish someone would give me an excuse to break that stupid rule.”
Luca snorts and gets into his car. “Santoro will be in touch. Don’t be dumb, Quinn.” Then he turns and drives off.
The car behind my truck backs up until it reaches the intersection, turns around, and heads in the opposite direction.
Leaving me alone in the road like that never happened.
My heart’s racing. I feel like I’m coming down off an adrenaline rush. For a minute there, I really thought I was dead.
Luca wasn’t kidding, he really could have murdered me straight up and gotten away with it.
But here I am. And it seems like Santoro saw my bait and decided to take a bite.
Chapter 34
Elena
The driver drops me off outside of Orla’s house and only shakes his head when I tell him not to wait. “Got to make sure you’re alright,” he says and hunkers down in his seat. “I’ll be out here until you’re ready to head back. Orders from the Don himself.”
I roll my eyes and decide not to argue. I have too much on my mind to care if my older brother is being overprotective. I hurry up the front steps and find Brody sitting in his office speaking to an older gentleman. Both of them look startled to see me.
“What a lucky day,” Brody says smoothly and gestures me forward. “Mr. Donnelly, this is my wife, Elena. I didn’t know she was coming to check on me.”
I stare at him, not sure what to make of his totally relaxed demeanor. When he called earlier and told me about getting ambushed by a crooked cop and Santoro’s men, I expected to find him shaken up. Instead, he seems completely fine.
But I’m not. I’m far from completely fine.
“I’ll wait with your mother until you’re finished,” I say and ignore old Mr. Donnelly when he tries to argue and says I should stay. Instead, I head into the kitchen where Orla’s sitting at the table in sweats drinking coffee and eating a bowl of cereal. She seems delighted to see me.
I like Brody’s mother. She’s got sad eyes and is holding back a very deep, unrelenting pain, but she fights through it anyway and tries her best for her family. I can relate to that, at least the part about taking care of everyone else. I hug her and we make small talk until she finally gets around to asking why I showed up out of the blue.
“What, I can’t visit my husband while he’s working?”
She shakes her head and studies me. “Not your normal thing. Did he tell you about the little ambush?”
“Sometimes I forget how involved you are.”
She looks amused at that. “Brody’s father was always asking for my opinions on things. I think the boys saw that and just kept up the habit. Now Brody tells me most of what’s going on with the family, even if sometimes I wish he wouldn’t.”
I process that and lean forward on my elbows, speaking quietly. “Is he okay?”
Orla takes a beat to answer. “I assume you mean emotionally, since physically he’s fine.”
“I can’t read him sometimes. He calls with this story about getting ambushed, but now he’s acting like nothing happened.”
“He’s the leader of our family, hon. He can’t go to pieces just because something dangerous happened. That man in there is strong, just like his father was.”
Which is exactly what I worry about. There’s a difference between being strong and being inflexible. Sometimes people think they can get all brittle, all closed off, and pretend like that’s strength, when in reality they’re one strong kick away from shattering.
But I know Brody isn’t glass. That man’s steel. I still worry.
He comes out a little while later and brings me back into his office. He shuts the door and kisses me, and we sit on the couch together, his hand slipping into mine. I lean against him, breathing that lovely smell of his again, and kiss his chin. “I was worried,” I say.
“I know. I shouldn’t have called. I just wanted to process with someone and I trust your judgment.”
I chew my lip, thinking about what Orla told me in the kitchen. His father used to talk to his mother—and now he wants to talk to me.