Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“Not really. Only one suitor stands out to be honest and I don’t know anything about him. I don’t even know his full name.”
“His full name? Does that mean you know part of it?” I can’t help the hope that begins bubbling up in me. I’m desperate for a lead.
“Maybe, I’m not sure. He came by about a week before I left for my cruise. I remember because I called out that Angie wasn’t home. He said he knew that. He was just dropping something off for her.”
“Was that common? For him to come around when Gia—uh, Angie, wasn’t home?”
“Sometimes. They had a weird relationship. I never really saw them together. He must have worked long hours because sometimes he wouldn’t even show up until after midnight. He was really nice and courteous, though. Plus, on his days off, he’d show up and clean Angie’s house or fix her dinner.”
None of this is lining up with what I know of Gia. She said she never dated this asshole and I have no doubt at all she told me the truth. She would have mentioned having a boyfriend back then. I know she would.
“How do you know he cooked and cleaned for her? Did Gi—Angie tell you?”
“No, the man did when we were talking one day. Before I could ask him more, the guy with him yelled that they had to go. He called him by name though. Malachi.”
I frown. “Malachi? Are you positive?”
“Mostly, the guy he was with had a thick accent, so I may have heard wrong.”
“What type of accent?” EZ pipes in, still stroking that damn cat who is now purring so loud that it’s a little scary.
“Now, that I can’t remember. Italian? Russian? It was one of those. It’s been a while you know. Malachi called him Abraham though.”
I sigh. This was worthless. I knew it was a longshot going in, but I was praying I was wrong.
“Well, I’m sorry we took up your time, Mildred.”
“I enjoyed it. Not often an old biddy like me gets two gentlemen callers that look like they stepped out of my television from two of my favorite shows.” I get up and EZ does, too. He’s considerably slower because he has to lift the huge cat off his lap and place her gently on the couch.
“What show is that?” I ask her, genuinely interested.
“Well, you look like you walked off my favorite soap, Days of Our Lives. Put a suit on you and you could definitely be one of Stefano DeMira’s family. As for your buddy, I’m thinking he could be from Sons of Anarchy.”
EZ laughs with Mildred’s analogy, but the cat Melissa must have decided she wanted more pets and was upset she wasn’t getting them. She jumps up EZ’s leg and proceeds to let out a loud screech right before she sinks her little kitty teeth into his ass.
“Motherfucker!” he growls, as the cat jumps off the couch and takes off running like the fires of hell is on her heels.
“Melissa is a biter,” Mildred says like this is a common occurrence. “I could clean your patootie with some alcohol if you want.”
I grin and do my best to not to bust out laughing. EZ shakes his head. “No thanks, Mildred, as tempting as that offer is, I don’t think my wife would appreciate it. She might do something to retaliate and never touch my ass again, and I like it when she does. Besides, she bites my ass often and it hurts more than Melissa’s.”
I’d say he was joking, but I’ve met Liberty and I’m pretty sure he’s not.
“Lucky woman,” Mildred says. I don’t bother to stop my laughter now. I walk toward the door shaking my head.
It’s time I head back home to Miami. Gia was right, I should have stayed home.
When we make it out to our bikes—mine borrowed from one of EZ’s men—I hop on, feeling more than a little defeated.
“Don’t look so glum asshole. I didn’t come all this way just to let some pussy bite my ass.”
“Well, that’s all you got. We didn’t get anything we can use in there.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” EZ answers, confusing the fuck out of me.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Let’s get back to the clubhouse and see if Ghost can work his magic. I’ve got a hunch and I want to see if I’m right.” He starts his bike and gives me a wink, before talking again. He raises his voice to yell over the sound of his bike. “Don’t worry, I’m usually always right.”
He peels out and leaves me to follow him, which I do while praying the crazy son of a bitch is right.
angelina
. . .
I wince as I slowly pull myself awake. I feel like I’ve been on a three-day bender. Not that I ever drink that much, but my head feels like what I imagine it would if I did. I lay back on my pillow, afraid to open my eyes. For a minute, I’m going to pretend my head isn’t pounding. I’ve had migraines before, but this feels different—and somehow more painful.