Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Slick was wearing that same cologne. I couldn’t forget it if I tried. And even though I can’t see his eyes, I know in my gut it’s him. It can’t be a coincidence that he’s here now.
I try to stay calm as I let go of Archer’s hand. We’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. I just need to get him back in the house. That’s all that matters right now. “Archer, did you forget Mr. Potato Head?”
His eyes widen when he looks up at me, acknowledging our secret code, and then they slowly move to the guy.
“Go back in the house and grab him,” I instruct. “Better make it quick.”
Archer doesn’t let me down. He follows the protocol we have in place. The same one I’ve made him practice again and again. He darts back up the stairs and shuts the door behind him, and when the lock clicks into place, I spring into action.
I pull a wad of cash from my pocket and try to hand it to Slick. “You know what, we’re going to be a while. I think I’ll call a cab later once I’m sure we’ve got everything.”
He reaches out for the cash but grabs me by the wrist instead. “Do you think I’m stupid?” He yanks me against him, and that’s when I feel the end of a gun against my rib cage. “Get in the fucking car, and do it without making a scene, or I’ll make sure your son comes along for the ride too.”
I swallow every instinct that screams at me to revolt and run. Something in his eyes tells me I won’t make it a block down the street before he shoots me, and then Archer too.
“Please don’t do this,” I whisper.
He cocks the gun, and my breath dies in my chest. “Too late, bitch. Now get in the fucking car.”
“Conor,” Crow barks at me. “Get the feck out of here.”
I look up from the sofa in his office, scrubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
“Ye’re completely worthless to me right now.” He tosses my jacket at me. “What the bleeding hell is going on with you?”
“He’s got lady problems,” Reaper chimes in.
Crow huffs. “Ye told me this wasn’t going to be an issue. And yet here you are, moping around all week like someone stole your lollies.”
I sit up and crack my neck from side to side, trying to release the tension that’s accumulated since I took up napping on Crow’s sofa. “There isn’t an issue.”
He curses under his breath and Ronan butts in again. “He thinks his missus hates him. That’s why he’s all bent out of shape.”
“I never said that.” I glare.
“Aye, you did,” Reaper insists. “When ye were whining last night after ye got your mitts on the whiskey.”
Crow snickers. “That’s it? That’s the fecking problem? Ye’re all bent out of shape because Ivy hates you?”
“It’s not funny,” I counter.
He looks to Ronan. “Aye, it is. Do you recall how much my missus hated me when she came blasting into this place? That’s the nature of the beast. You better develop some thicker skin if ye can’t handle a little fire in the pan.”
I get what Crow’s trying to say, but our situations are different. It might have worked out for him, but he wasn’t exactly holding Mack hostage either.
“Besides—” Crow walks over to his desk and pours himself a drink. “That girl doesn’t hate you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Ye’re just being a mophead.”
That much is probably true. The way I left things tonight wasn’t my finest moment. Ivy went out of her way to make an effort, and I threw it back in her face because my pride was wounded.
“Get your arse home and make it right,” Crow says. “Then get your head on straight. I need ye to pull it together.”
“Aye, I will.”
The house is dark when I get home, and I don’t need to flip on the lights to know something isn’t right. It’s too early for Ivy to be in bed. Even if she was, she always leaves the lamp on for me. But when I walk down the hall, my gut twists with what I already know I’ll find.
All of her things are gone. And Archer’s too. The house is empty, and it takes a full minute for that to sink in.
She left me. Just up and left without so much as note. Can’t say that I blame her after the way things have been. Crow was right. I am a dumbarse, and now my girl is gone and the wee lad too, and I’m sitting here alone wondering where they might be. But then I wonder if it even matters.
If she’s out of the city, and she’s safe, maybe that’s for the best. Maybe that’s exactly what she needed. I know it’s what she wanted.