Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
This may be a slight exaggeration, but I can’t afford to be some paragon of morality when we could lose the roof over our heads.
“And you think that’s enough to take care of my estate?”
“Your estate? I’m sorry. Am I speaking to Mr. Baird?”
He laughs like I’ve said something funny, with a hint of mockery. There’s also something else in his savage tone, deep and somehow attractive. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I guess I thought I’d talk to a secretary or something.”
“I like to handle my own business when it’s this important. You’ll be in my home. How soon can you interview?”
“Whenever. Today, even.”
“What about right now? I’ll send a car.”
“Can you give me a moment?”
“Just one,” he says gruffly.
Jerk, I almost say, but I’m almost smiling, too. It’s a strange combination of feelings that don’t make sense.
Putting my hand over my phone, I whisper to Dad, “He wants to send a car for an interview.”
Dad nods. “Good. Excellent.”
“You think I should go?”
“You don’t want to?”
“He sounds… I don’t know, really intense. Super serious. I don’t know anything about him.”
“He won’t hurt you,” Dad says. “I’ve heard Blake Baird is a decent man.”
“I thought you didn’t know him?” I say.
Dad swallows and shrugs. “I don’t know him, but I’ve heard his reputation.”
“Anyway, we need the money, right?”
Before waiting for a response, I remove my hand from the phone.
“Sorry, I’m back.”
“That was far more than a moment.”
When I say nothing, he laughs again. There’s so much hidden in that laughter, mockery, and something else, tempting me in a bizarre way.
“This is the part where you give me your name,” he says.
“Oh, it’s Bonnie.”
“Bonnie,” he repeats. “Are you Scottish, lass?”
When he says lass, a weird tingle shivers over my skin. I press my legs together, ignoring the thoughts, the lust-filled whispers about this man I know nothing about. I don’t even know what he looks like. He could be married.
“My mom was fully Scottish. My dad is half Scottish, but I’ve never even been.”
“Hmm,” he says, leaving me to wonder what he means by that. “So, can you interview?”
“Yes,” I reply since I don’t have much choice.
There’s something else—a pull toward this man. I know nothing will happen, but I want to see him in person.
“I’ll send a car, Bonnie,” he says. “See you soon.”
“Wait, don’t you need my address?”
Dad is staring at the table, his hands resting on his knees, squeezing tightly. My mind flips over as I struggle to piece this all together. I’m sure something’s going on, something to do with Dad and Blake.
“Of course,” he replies. “What is it?”
The of course… There’s something in there. What’s going on here?
Maybe it’s natural for a budding private detective to see mysteries everywhere, but I don’t think it’s as simple as that. I think Dad has lied to me. Again.
When I give the address, Blake says, “I’ll send the car. Be ready.” He hangs up.
I stand. “He’s going to send the car now. I need to get changed.”
I’m still wearing my waitress uniform. I went into work this lunchtime ready for a six-hour shift, only for my jerk-off boss to tell me he’d double-booked the shift, and I had to go home without pay.
If I can land the maid job, it’ll make saving for training much easier.
“Good luck,” Dad says once I’m changed and ready to go.
CHAPTER TWO
Blake
Archie, my Scottish terrier, barks at Malcolm as he walks into my office. The small black dog yaps and runs over to him, snagging his pant leg.
“Come on, little guy,” Malcolm says, shaking him off lightly. “I thought we were friends?”
Archie spins in a circle and runs to the corner, curling into a ball. That’s all he needs to do—show he’s up for a fight and won’t take any crap. Then he can let us have our meeting.
Malcolm sits opposite me, across from my large desk. He’s almost as tall as I am, with broad shoulders and a mop of dark red hair. He’s thirty, twelve years younger than me. His relative youth and my experience make an excellent combination.
“Another drive-by,” Malcolm says. “They shot up one of our bars this time. Didn’t hit anyone but tore the place up pretty bad.”
“The Italians?”
“We’ve owned this city ever since the old days,” Malcolm says. “I don’t know why they’d think they can make a bid now.”
“There’s new blood. A pup finally comes of age,” I say. “Enzo, leading up a wild clique of the mob. He’s trying to finish what his father started.”
Malcolm’s eyes shoot up. “His father, as in the man who—”
“Yeah, who split me from my best friend. I had to kill Enzo’s father. Couldn’t let what he did go, but Cameron could never understand.”
Malcolm nods. “I know that must’ve hurt.”
I bare my teeth at him. “You think the leader of the Kilts is capable of emotion?”