I’ll Kiss You Twice (Shame On You #2) Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Shame On You Series by W. Winters
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Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
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Clearing my throat I shake my head slightly and wait for my lawyer to repeat whatever he said.

“We were given a heads-up that the officer in charge is working with a judge who isn’t in our back pocket.”

“Right. We knew he probably would.”

“So, prepare for questioning. Nate first, but they’re more than likely planning to pick you up and you should decide where you want that to happen. Here? In The Club, or at home or … let me know so I can plant that seed.”

This isn’t the first time I’ll be picked up by the cops for questioning. It’s the first time that I’ve thought about who will be with me when they do, though.

What she’ll see and what she’ll think. And who will be there for Braelynn if it’s just the two of us and they take me away.

“Let me know,” McHale prods for an answer and instead of giving him a time and place, I hesitate and let him know I’ll get back to him.

I need to take care of her first. I can’t handle all of this shit without knowing if she’s even going to be there. I take a glance at my brother as every thought of what she’d do if they pulled her in for questioning races in my mind and I find his gaze on me just the same.

It’s unsettling. Every detail we’ve gone over feels like it could be the one that ends us.

BRAELYNN

Ihaven’t touched the money yet. Although I stare at it from the bed and even as I stand here, in front of the dresser while I slip on black leggings that feel like silk and an oversized soft wool sweater, I can smell it.

Declan said the stacks added up to over a million. And it sits there, only inches away.

Letting out an uncomfortable sigh, I stare at the door and wish I were anywhere else. I wish I could simply go home or go to my mother’s.

This room is a test, this estate is a trap and it’s like I’m playing mind games with the devil every minute that ticks by.

The one question every decision seems to ride on is whether or not he loves me. Does Declan love me?

It feels like he does when he’s with me but sometimes it also feels like he’s testing me, like he’s waiting for me to fail and I know that’s not love. This could all be a sick twisted game for him. There is so much more darkness to Declan than I know. I’m all too aware he’s done things that would chill me to my core. Can a man like that truly love anyone? Let alone me?

My heart aches questioning it. Because I love him. Every dark crevice that makes him who he is … it only makes me want to love him more … even if it gets me killed.

The phone ringing on the nightstand sends a jolt of panic through me. As if I’ve been caught in the act of thinking too much, thinking about things I shouldn’t be.

I stare at it from where I am. Even though Declan gave it to me, it’s not really my phone. Even as I answer the call I know, it’s just another test.

“Mama,” I say, greeting her with a tone that’s meant to appease her.

“Nena, where are you?” Her words are riddled with so much emotion. “I’ll come pick you up.” The eagerness in her voice pains me.

“A little sick.”

“Still?” I’ve always been a bad liar and I hate to lie to my mother. I’d be a fool to think Declan or his family at least, doesn’t have this phone wired or tapped or whatever the hell they do. As I sit on the edge of the bed, I get a look at the money again. I don’t trust anything. It’s all a damn test and I just want it to be over so my life can go back to normal. Or as normal as it can ever be after all of this.

“I just want to stay in and watch shows, Mama.”

“Let me bring you soup,” she suggests, her voice hopeful. “It’s been too long that you’ve been sick. Let me check on you.”

“I’ll see you soon, Mama, but I can’t see you right now.” There’s a hesitation on her end. Silence is all I’m given and inside I’m filled with shame. So much so that tears prick the back of my eyes. How? I don’t know. They’re sore and red rimmed from days on end of sobbing. I’ve never felt so weak and helpless. So utterly fucking useless and pathetic.

“Are you angry with me?” my mother asks quietly and I have to gather my composure.

“No, no, Mama,” I say as quickly as I can.

“Is this about Travis?” It’s after she says his name that I can tell my mother is crying. It fucking kills me. I hate this. I hate all of it.


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