Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
It's as if they don't matter, as if he's already determined that I'll do what he says.
I do feel bad for Edith. I know she'll be the one to have to take up the slack and extra shifts, but maybe this will enable Tommy to hire more than one other person so we aren't worked like dogs. Not that serving a handful of customers a night is a hard job. I just know it's hard on Edith's old body to stand and shuffle around for a full shift.
"A man was stabbed in your bar," I mutter, not willing to take the story any further.
I don't hold on to my secrets, the true story of how that night played out because I'm protecting them. I feel stupid and would look like a complete fool if anyone knew how gullible I was for getting tangled up with him in the first place.
"It happens," Tommy says with a disinterested lift of his shoulders. "Have you ever felt like you were in danger at the bar?"
Every time that stranger looked in my direction. I shouldn't feel the echo of a thrill just thinking about the first time he locked those multicolored eyes on me.
"If you feel like you're in danger, then I can add security."
"You'll add security but you won't hire another bartender?"
I hate the way he casually moves a box off the couch so he can take a seat as if he's been invited into the house as a guest.
"I haven't hired a new bartender because the business doesn't necessitate one. Is the job difficult for you?"
"Really?" I growl, hearing the insult in his tone as if he thinks I can't handle what I've been doing.
"Do you need more time off?"
I don't justify his annoyance with an answer. Needing time off now is a moot point because I've quit, and he won't be able to change my mind. Now all I need to do to fully rid myself of the trouble I've gotten into is to pack my shit and move very far away, not that I think Hemlock will waste any time looking for me.
Hell, I can't even guarantee they won't come and take care of me because I'm a loose end. Jericho had me drive to the cabin after the stabbing, and then I was allowed to leave. I literally just walked out the front door and drove off like I was there for a vacation or something.
There was no hood over my head or a verbal threat to keep my mouth shut although I could sense it in his tone when he advised me to keep my experiences to myself.
"I quit," I say, the two words as simple as the text I sent to him when I woke up this morning. "The reasons aren't up for discussion."
"Something has you spooked," he says, his tone even, sounding I imagine like a therapist would if they were trying to coax you to open up for the first time.
Who is this guy?
"Why do you even care?" I mutter, putting the gun down on the half wall that divides the living room and kitchen. The house isn't much bigger than a studio apartment, but until it was tainted by Hemlock's presence here, it felt like a place I could eventually make my own.
"You're family."
I shake my head, rejecting his declaration.
"We're not family. Even if I had stayed married to your piece of shit brother, we wouldn't be family. I don't even know you."
He watches me, his attention making me want to shift back and forth on my feet.
He spreads his hands as if opening himself up to me. "Ask me anything you want to know."
This is where I waver. I have a million questions to ask, starting with a lot of the stuff that was implied with my conversation last night with Hemlock. I want to know about the young girls. I want to know who that girl he escorted to the car was weeks ago. Why Teena was there for a job interview that ended with him fucking her.
But I won't ask those questions.
I've learned very quickly to keep my mouth closed and to turn a blind eye to the shit I see. I don't want to be in the middle of his shit because it always comes at a cost, and I don't have anything left to give to anyone. I left all I had in that basement before I scurried away.
Also, I can't seem to let go of that insanely ridiculous loyalty that I feel for Hemlock. I don't know if it is real or if it was somehow cultivated by the man as another way he manipulated me, but I won't open my mouth or any door that may lead back to him. It's why I have to leave town because part of me insists I go back to that cabin despite the further danger that could put me in.