Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Who decided?” Royce asked. “Who are ‘we’?”
“All of us.” Quinn frowned at him. “We agreed to meet here to discuss what we can do about this situation. I already figured it out, and they agreed it’s a good plan.”
Royce looked at each of his friends. They were most definitely friends. He shook his head, unable to stop a small smile from forming. “What are we doing?”
“We’re getting your mommy,” Garrett said. “They should know better than to mess with a mommy.”
“Exactly. So Mommy Gate has already been decided.” Quinn dropped the plans on the table, then pinned them to the wall over Rowe’s lettering.
“Mommy Gate?” Marc laughed for the first time all day as he walked to the table to pull out a chair. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“What do you mean, decided?” Royce asked. “Shouldn’t I figure out what we’re doing here?”
Garrett pointed at each of them. “We’re all in on this—that’s what’s decided. There is no way in hell you’re going in alone to get your mother.”
“And don’t even try to tell us that wasn’t the plan,” Sven added. He leaned against the wall, so large he took up serious space in the small kitchen. “You should have called when this—whatever this is—first started.”
“Exactly,” Quinn agreed as he pushed up his glasses and glared. “Start from the beginning because I’m positive that trip you took to Italy had something to do with this.”
Marc looked at him over his shoulder and the pain in those blue eyes threatened to steal Royce’s breath. He stared back, knowing that memories of Italy were playing in both their minds.
It took him a couple of moments to clear his throat. “As you all already figured out, my uncle is Corbin Karras, the leader of the crime family in New York. Hold on.” Royce went back out to the garage and grabbed the whiskey he’d brought. He walked back and pulled down glasses. Juice ones would have to do.
“This story needs booze?” Garrett asked.
“Lots.” Royce set out the juice glasses his aunt had left and poured. He handed them out. Garrett and Quin sat at the table. Sven eyed the small chairs around the equally small card table.
Quinn snorted. “We should move this to the living room, so Sven can sit down.”
“Nah, I’ll stand,” he said, taking a glass. He still wore the frustrated expression causing a deep furrow between his blond brows. “Just get to the story.”
Royce understood why they were angry. He’d had a lot of time to think about it, to realize that these men put their lives in each other’s hands daily. He should have trusted them. Should have opened up before.
He leaned against the old Formica counter. “My father and younger brother were shot and killed when I was twelve. We believe my brother was an accident. Nobody had known my father would have him that day because he’s usually in school. Scared I’d be a victim, too, my mother dropped everything and took me away from New York. My life in Virginia—” he broke off and gulped down some whiskey, needing the burn. “Let’s just say I followed in the family’s footsteps. I was a punk, and I was mean. Things I did came with a huge cost. One I won’t go into now. But right after I took the job with Marc, Corbin Karras showed up here. Seems he’s an art collector, and he was drooling over the thought of me being hooked into that world.”
“But you’re not,” Garrett said.
“He saw the stories Quinn created on the Internet.”
“Shit,” Quinn breathed. “I’m so sorry, Royce.”
“Not your fault, squirt. Seems my uncle has been following me my entire life. He saw what I could do. The way I fight. He decided my mother had taken a valuable asset out of his hands and so we both owe him.”
“What kind of fucked-up, twisted logic is that?” Sven’s scowl deepened.
“Karras fucked-up, twisted logic. My uncle should never have been the head of the family. It was always my father and should have stayed him. He had more of a soul, believe it or not. And he was a hell of a lot smarter than Corbin.” Royce paused. “I like to believe that my father would have worked to legitimatize their business. I remember him being a good man. Corbin is anything but.”
“Corbin is a showman. Likes mobster movies,” Quinn added.
Royce lifted an eyebrow.
“I’ve had more than twenty-four hours to research.”
Garrett whistled. “That’s like four years in regular, human time.”
Sven and Marc laughed.
Quinn just nodded like he agreed. “Corbin goes all out. Shows off the wealth, has a huge entourage of big, heavyweight enforcers, and he’s rumored to kill anyone who could testify against him. But he’s stupid.”
Something in Quinn’s voice made Royce stand straight. “You find something?”
The smile Quinn had then held the naughtiest cast, and Royce grinned. The squirt was a genius.