Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Instead, that nightmare is still swirling around my head with the cops now all up in my grill, poking around, asking questions and trying to piece shit together about my connection to Iadanza, my relationship with Violet, who they referred to as Iadanza’s ex, and that’s a phrase that I want out of my head because it makes the old rage about what he did to fuckin’ scoop her from me feel too fresh.
The one cop, Carlson MacDonald, I got a look in his eyes that tweaked me as he’s informing me Iadanza is missing, asking if I saw the news. I tell him I was busy being dosed with a lethal drug cocktail and he informs me that Raymond was pulled from the prison transport on December 26 by a crew that they’re trying to identify. Two corrections officers were injured, though not critically. And Iadanza is in the wind.
And I know MacDonald is looking at the whole picture, at the fact that not only was I involved with the arrest with Raymond after he scammed that old lady for the money, but that now Violet’s married me and the same day the shit happens with Iadanza going missing from the transport, me and Jagger are drugged with mystery drug concoctions for which the now dead Hoffman is known to have an affinity for creating. And the fact that Iadanza’s gun was used to kill Hoffman. Plus my beef with Hoffman over what happened after I fired Amber has them paying close attention to me.
So now on top of everything, it’s become crystal clear to me that all this now means there’s a room somewhere inside the police headquarters building with a bulletin board that has all these facts and my and Violet’s pictures tacked to it. There’s just too many connections for there not to be.
Right now, I’m missing my old mentor Tom Ferrano Sr. Because this is a tangled web that he’d undoubtedly have the connections to untie for me. And I know Dario and Tommy are trying to live cleaner, otherwise I’d have considered calling them for advice. Though, based on a conversation I’ve had with my brother, they’ve had their hands more than full getting retribution against Leo Denarda, the shithead behind my swarming after Dario’s wedding. And the retribution against him is something Will was a witness to. He’s lost some innocence around all that. And this doesn’t make me happy with the Ferrano brothers at all. And I blame myself for hooking Will up with Dario thinking I was helping them both out, that it wouldn’t mean my brother has to wade into the sludge of Portland’s underbelly.
So, no, I’m not about to pick up the phone and call my old friends about this, but then again I don’t ever rely solely on other people to fix my problems. Not ever.
So, I need to figure this shit out, keep my shit tight, make sure I build the connections I need as my business grows because clearly my list of enemies will also grow with that. And above all fucking else, protect Violet.
***
I sleep like garbage because I don’t have her next to me, her fingers in my hair, her body heat close. But at least I know she’s safe tonight.
***
I’ve been on the phone for an hour with my beautiful Violet. Her voice soothes as she chats happily about her sleepover last night.
“Reminds me of when we were kids and my grandparents would take all the kids for sleepovers. We camped out in the rec room on air mattresses with sleeping bags. Ate junk food and watched movies all night. Colly bought a big jar of the moisturizer Gramma always used and we all put it on and told stories about her while smelling that awesome scent. Grampa even came and told us to go to bed at three in the morning when we were giggling too loud, but he was only fake-mad.”
“I bet he loved every minute,” I say.
“Yeah,” she breathes out. “So, you’re not going to the house?”
“Naw,” I say. “I have to meet with the cops today, talk about the security plan for New Year’s Eve along with some other stuff regarding me and Jag getting drugged. I’m also figuring it might not be the best place for me until my head is sorted.”
“Oh. Uh… do you want me to, um, stay here again tonight? Or I could go to the beach house. Wait, maybe I shouldn’t; I’m not sure about that.”
“I want you home. Slept like shit last night without you. Plus we’ve got an alarm system here. Security downstairs. It’s better if you’re here with this swirling shit storm.”
Good name for it. Yeah, a storm of bullshit is swirling around, orbiting me, and I’m not sure where the tornado will touch down next.