Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
I know he doesn’t. Or he’s allowed himself to forget.
“Bought her some pretty things. Got the jewelry you hocked out of the pawn shop for her. And man, she was fuckin’ relieved. Thought it was lost forever because of you. Threw her arms around me for it. Riddle me this: what kind of loser move is it to take your woman’s jewelry that she’s kept since a baby, saving it for her future kid, and put it at risk like that? For a couple hundred bucks? Are you fucking thick? You really think she’s gonna let you be the one to put that kid in her belly?”
His mouth contorts painfully. He knows he’s a fucking loser. But he’s also pissed right now and he’s probably feelin’ brave considering I’ve said he’s off the hook, mostly, for his stupidity tonight. That’s okay. His false confidence is going to be his fucking downfall.
“Puttin’ lots of smiles on that pretty face, Raymond. Seein’ those dimples every fucking day. When’s the last time she gave you a dimpled smile?”
The guy looks like I just socked him in the gut.
Fucking turd.
I continue. “Be surprised if she turns me down. Real surprised if she chooses to remain faithful to a shmuck who hocks her baby jewelry, who loses her because of gambling debts. Or is she already done with you, man? Because she doesn’t seem too bothered about being mine.”
He swallows thickly.
“Better get the fuck outta here and work on getting my cash together. Before I change my mind, put a bullet between your eyes, and then go home and fuck your girlfriend anyway.” I give him a blinding smile.
He licks his teeth behind his lips, looking like he wants to deck me.
He’s too fucking afraid of me. A) He knows I can fight. Beat the snot out of him no less than three times in his life so far. B) He knows I’ve got a long reach to make him pay if he manages to get the better of me, which is highly fucking unlikely.
“You’re not gettin’ that gun back, either. Fuck off. Go catch your train.”
I rap on the door and Tony pops his head out.
“Walk him to the MAX.”
“Got it, boss.”
I watch them walk down the hallway. Ray looks over his shoulder at me just once.
I smirk as I grab my cock, give it a jiggle and jerk my chin up.
He sways, then puts a hand against the wall to try to catch his balance.
Fuckin’ asshole.
Yeah, go home, ass-wipe, and have nightmares about me fucking Violet.
I call my old friend Tino and arrange to meet him.
***
I meet Tino in the back office at a coffee shop owned by my buddy Dario’s family, give him the gun Tony took off Ray and tell him to hold it pending further instructions. I also tell him to pay a visit and make sure Sully files all the paperwork properly so that the gun gets registered to Ray. If that isn’t doable, there’s gonna be a swap.
29
Violet
I’m panicked.
I wake, knowing I’ve been dreaming. Dreaming of Ray with a gun. He pointed it at me and then Killian was there between us and Ray had the gun against Killian’s forehead.
I feel the bed move and I see the shadow of someone climbing under the covers. It’s dark, still, but the city lights are twinkling outside, letting enough light in that I can see it’s Killian beside me.
I let out a big breath.
“Violet,” he says. “Hi.”
He’s awake. Not sleepwalking.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“I have to sleep here,” he tells me. “I need to sleep here. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’re shaking,” he observes. “I scare you?”
I feel the heat from his close proximity. It’s like he’s a furnace and I’m freezing, every bit of me wanting to get closer to that heat.
“I had a bad dream. I think it’s the aftermath of … all that.”
“Is it okay that I’m here?”
“Yeah,” I whisper and nuzzle into the blankets, trying to warm up.
My teeth chatter.
Why? Is it that cold or is it the nightmare? I shiver again and squirm into the blankets.
And then warmth envelopes me and my eyes automatically drift shut as I will my body to absorb the heat.
He’s pulled me to his chest. We’re on our sides facing one another and his arm is around me. My cheek is against his naked chest. His hand is flat against my back, which is exposed mostly because I’m wearing a camisole nightgown that’s low cut in the back.
Oh my Lord. This feels… it feels like I’m about to be incinerated by the heat. And gladly. I feel almost drunk.
“I’m sorry I made you come home alone tonight; I was pissed,” he whispers.
“At me?” I squeak.
“At you,” he confirms.
And that sobers me. I thought so. He seemed pissed at me.
“I wanted to hurt him,” he tells me, matter-of-factly, and it sounds like he’s doing it through gritted teeth.