Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Gene,” Cole said.
Gene nodded, then glanced at me. I nodded as well. He was leaving, letting me have my time with Cole.
We waited until he closed the door, then I started. “You’re bringing the police chief in here? To see your face? To see mine?”
Cole tensed, frowning. “What—”
“That’s reckless. You meet with dirty cops, dirty politicians, whoever, outside of the house. Never in the house.”
“What, you’re the All Mighty Trainer? Do you have a rulebook? How to be a Mafia Leader for Dummies?”
“Cole.”
“What?” His eyes flashed a warning. “You trained me to fight and to kill. This stuff I have to learn on my own.”
“Trust Gene.”
Cole scoffed. “Right, because my uncle isn’t judging every mistake I make, huh? Because he really thinks I deserve this chair.”
Well, fuck. He’d sensed Gene’s reservations. “He means well.”
Cole waved me off. “My father was the head of the family. I just—” His hands fell to his desk, and he held onto it for a second. “This was his. This whole house. This chair. I have so many memories of watching him in here, and now it’s me and…” Shadows flitted across his face. “There are a lot of ghosts in here, Carter. More than I thought there were going to be.”
His father, mother, brothers, sisters—and he would’ve been another. I softened my tone. “I’ll help you, with what I can.”
“Oh, gee.” His lips curved in a mocking grin. “Thanks so much for that.”
“Don’t be an ass,” I growled.
I kept getting pulled in. Granted, I had come myself, but I needed to know for sure. “Who do you think was the target?”
Cole sighed. “I have no idea. I really don’t. How’s she doing?”
She’d been sleeping when I left. “Bruised, sore, resting.” I needed to get back to her.
“You’re at your place?”
I nodded.
“Are you going to be training tonight?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Always.”
“I’m going to come over.”
Despite all the complications, at a basic level, it felt good having him back. We’d fallen into our old routine. When AJ died, Cole had replaced him as my brother. I hadn’t been looking for another best friend, but we were alike, and when I took him away from the family to hide and train, we became even more alike. Neither of us had blood family. I had been in the shadows, watching over Emma, and he was in the shadows, just surviving.
I stood by what I’d said to Gene on the plane. Cole would be a good leader, but he had to find his own way. Only he could be the leader. I couldn’t do that for him. However, training him, making him the best fighter he could be, I could do that.
“Carter.”
“Hmm?” I’d been distracted by my thoughts. “Yeah?”
“This is different for me.” He hesitated. “I’ve been out in the cold, you know, and I’m coming back in. It’s just…different.”
I didn’t comment. I don’t think he expected me to. As I left, my hand curled around the air, and I could almost feel the weight of my gun. It was coming back to me.
I heard the dull thunk from the top of the stairs. The closer I got to the basement, the more the sound grew. Carter was in the gym. Even before I rounded to the doorway and saw him, I knew what I heard.
I found him hitting a punching bag, wearing a sleeveless sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head. His feet danced lightly as he struck again and again. His hands were wrapped in white tape, but it had become smudged black and worn out.
I must’ve made a sound because Carter stopped and looked over. “Hey.” His voice was so soft. My heart melted.
“Hey, yourself.” He was sweating, his muscles glistening. I wanted to drag him up to bed. Instead, I said, “Teach me.”
“Teach you?”
I gestured to the punching bag. “How to fight. I want to know.”
He stepped back and unzipped his sweatshirt. A shine of sweat covered his chest as it heaved for air. He rested an arm on the bag, watching me. “You want to fight?”
I’ve killed two men. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
“No.”
I hadn’t been expecting that. “Excuse me?”
“I said no.”
He started to turn for the bag again, but I caught his arm. “Why not?”
Instead of looking me in the eye, his gaze went past my shoulder. “Because you shouldn’t have to fight. That’s my job,” he answered, with his mouth stretched tight.
“Hey.” I reached up, took his chin, and forced him to look at me. “Fighting is both our jobs. Dunvan. Ben. I killed those men. My hands are already bloody, and I’m in this fight. Whatever it is—I’m here. I’m at your side. If the woman you love doesn’t know how to fight, she shouldn’t be there.”
A stricken look came over him, and the corners of his mouth softened. “Emma.” He reached for my hand.