Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Lettie says, “That’s what I thought about Shades, too, and look at us now.”
I nod hopefully. “I do want to become his ol’ lady, but sexy and young,” I say and laugh. “I’ve always wanted to be an ol’ lady, you know.”
“No!” Letty lets out a sarcastic gasp. “You only talk about it all the time,” she jokes.
“I’m serious,” I tell her. “I’m really enjoying our sexy time together, but I want more than that.”
It might be too soon for most women to think like that, but I’m young and hot and also have a great job. It makes me a catch, and most of all, I know what I want. Joaquin.
“Make him want more, too, with you,” she offers gently.
“That’s the plan,” I tell her honestly.
Sex with Joaquin is hot as fuck, and that part I definitely want to continue. My plan is to use that good sex to reel him in and make sure that my pussy is the only one he wants. I have tricks, and I’m starting to know what he likes. I’ll use that to keep him happy and satisfied, and then, I’ll be on my way to officially being his ol’ lady.
“Willow,” Kenna calls out to me, and her tone immediately puts me on edge.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes are wide with concern. “Cops are here, and they’re asking for you.”
“Shit,” I grumble under my breath and wipe the flour from my hands. “I’m coming.”
I’m a little worried because who wouldn’t be when meeting with cops? The last time they were here, they took Maven away in cuffs.
I steel my nerves with a few deep breaths and go to the dining room where those same asshole detectives are waiting.
“Ms. Martinez, we have a few questions for you.”
I fold my arms across my chest as if they were body armor. “And if I don’t answer, are you going to take me away in handcuffs too?”
“Just answer our questions, and we’ll get out of your hair,” Detective Powell says, a tired expression on his face.
I drop down in a chair at a table near them but not too near. A little distance is always necessary when dealing with cops. “You guys must be mentally defective if you think Maven would kill anyone, not even someone as deserving as that asshole, Cyrus.”
“Have you ever seen her lose her temper?”
I drop my head back and laugh. “Are you kidding? She should have mutilated that motherfucker the minute he put his hands on her, but she didn’t. Hell, she didn’t even call you. I did.”
“Maybe she had plans to kill him later, and that’s why she didn’t call?”
“She was crying when I found her, and that fucker was about to hit her again. I’ll tell you what Maven did. She got the best revenge a girl has at her disposal. She got over Cyrus by getting under someone hotter and younger than his dusty ass.”
“Ms. Martinez, just answer our questions. Please.”
“Where did she go later that day after Mr. Palacios’ arrest?”
“She worked with me until the end of the day, and then she went home. What time did you release him? Did you even process him or require bail, or are you on the Iron Kings payroll?”
The detectives eye each other, and I laugh.
“Oh, my God! You either didn’t check, or you’re on their payroll. Priceless.”
They don’t offer any answers, so I lean forward. “So, tell me. How did that fucker die? Was he gutted like a fish? Or, I know, did someone hang him from his crusty balls?”
They meet my questions with stony silence.
“Maybe you should ask Billy Nogales. They are family, after all.” I shrug. It’s clear they are here on a fishing expedition, and I refuse to take the bait. “Is that all?”
Detective Scott smacks the table, drawing attention for the pre-lunch customers. “Listen, Ms. Martinez, hanging around with bikers is a good way to end up dead. You think this is all fun and games but look at what happened to your friend.”
I laugh. “Seems to me that trusting you is what landed her behind bars, not her association with someone who rides a motorcycle. Cyrus drives a sedan, and he didn’t hesitate to harm her.”
These fucking guys are so sure they know everything when they don’t know shit. I give him an aggressive side-eye. “What about my friend Sandee? She’s been missing for weeks now, but cops don’t care about a dancer, right? Or any of the other women turning up dead in the harbor.”
Now I’m angry, and I’m done being cooperative. “I’m done answering your questions.” I turn to go into the back kitchen. “Please leave.”
“We’re not done,” Powell grunts at my back.
I turn to him and cross my arms, arch my brows. “I’m done, and if you’re not here to arrest me or buy baked goods, you are trespassing.”