Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Nixon: Why… indeed.
Me: Nixon, I say this out of both love and hate, go shoot something before you lose your temper. We get in a fight, and I end your life.
Tex: This I would pay to see.
Me: I don’t have all day to take out all the Italians, that would take more planning, but I do have time to take a girl who’s still pissed off to school where I’m going to piss her off more.
Phoenix: Fingers crossed she doesn’t draw first blood.
Too late, she already did. I stared down at my phone and almost typed those words
It was an odd thing to think.
Me: I have it under control.
Dante: Doubtful. Highly doubtful.
Dante might have gone to school with me for a few months but he didn’t know me, not in that way. He only knew me as the part I played, his enemy, to flush out the double crossing.
He had no clue the sort of man I was now.
The things I would do.
The guilt I felt.
I tossed my phone against the couch as Alic — six thirty-two made it down the hall in her short black skirt, black and red jacket, and white shirt. She had a pair of black nylons on and high heels that made her legs go on for days.
I licked my lips and stood, looking away and fishing my phone from the couch. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I was…” She sighed. “Wondering if you had a protein bar or something—”
She covered her stomach with her hand.
I immediately felt like shit, again.
Her hand was shaking.
Did she have low blood sugar?
Why the hell did I care?
She was a product.
A thing.
Barely human.
So fucking warm.
I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned against the counter top, sucked in a few deep breaths and then rasped out, “Yeah, one sec.”
I went to the cupboard and grabbed a few protein bars then realized that she’d probably need lunch too.
How the hell had I turned into this guy in the span of twenty-four hours? From calling her a whore to making sure she had a sack lunch?
Phoenix would shit a brick and then break a rib from laughing so hard.
“Thanks.” She took the bars.
I grabbed the bag I’d had Ax buy for me first thing that morning, I was trying to go for something that wouldn’t look too expensive and had probably failed since it was Gucci, but I liked things that looked nice, that complimented each other, and I liked the idea of her with white leather. She had everything she’d need in there except—
With a curse I reached for my wallet and pulled out two crisp hundred dollar bills.
Blood money.
Stained with mine and theirs.
“Here.” I held it out.
She stared down at it and then swallowed slowly. “Nothing’s free.”
“Pardon?”
“You said that last night. Nothing’s free, everything has a cost, what’s my cost for this? For your kindness? For the clothes? For lunch money? I need to know, so I can process what it means I have to do. I know I’m in deep. I know this is my life now. The least you can do is just tell me. Please.” She lifted her head; her gaze was unwavering.
I had a sudden image of her dropping to her knees and was so fucking appalled I stumbled backward and turned away from her.
“Dinner,” I said smoothly. “You’re in charge of cooking dinner, every night, at six o’clock, until I tell you it’s been paid off.”
I could hear her exhale. “Okay, I can do that.”
“We’re going to be late.” I grabbed the keys off the counter and walked ahead of her, opening the door and waiting.
She took one look at the door, then her gaze flicked to me, and she held her head high and walked out.
So regal that I found myself smiling after her.
Her posture didn’t change as we moved through the near empty club, and when we reached outside, Ax was already at her side opening the door to my black and silver Aston Martin.
She hesitated a minute and then slid into the seats while I walked around to the driver’s side and got in, roaring the engine to life.
I’d missed driving lately.
And I didn’t want to show up in a giant Escalade that screamed mafia, better to show up in a car worth three million dollars and scream wealthy.
Money was safer.
Money looked dangerous.
Money made me look more normal, and when mafia showed up it was typically in all black with guns strapped to their bodies.
I’d show up with my knife and still do more damage.
The sound of Avenged Sevenfold filled the air as I hit the accelerator and whizzed past two cops who both waved. We flew by an ambulance.
She gripped the sides of the seat as I peeled around the corner and pulled in front of the iron gate of Eagle Elite.
Why hadn’t Dante burned the place down?