Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
But no matter how I try to frame things, I always come back to the same place.
Safety. Protection. The care of the people I love.
I’d lay down my bloody life for them, from my sisters to brothers and the other Clan members. My parents. It’s who I am, and how I was raised.
Cairstina keeps her hand on my arm, trying to keep me calm, I suppose. And for that, I’m grateful.
“Who’s her man?” I ask Tate, trying to remind myself that finding him and literally killing him is probably not very diplomatic.
“Not sure,” Tate mutters. “Jack something.”
“Jack something? Did Fran tell you nothing?”
“She said she’d meet as at the shops, help us look.”
I shake my head. “Fine, then.” I park our car, and we get out, but I hardly believe we’re going to see Paisley casually wandering the streets. Though the snow’s stopped, it’s freezing cold, and I suspect if she’s alright—and Christ, I hope she is—that she knows we might come looking for her.
We stroll through the shops, keeping apart from one another so we don’t draw suspicion. I take Cairstina with me.
She points to a chocolate shop at the corner, and I wonder if she’s asking me to take her or suggesting we look for Paisley.
“You want sweets?” I ask.
She smiles and shakes her head, then sends me a text.
I will literally never say no to chocolate, but no, that’s not why I think we should go in. Paisley likes chocolate, too, and Islan said she liked this store. Maybe someone’s seen her?
I shrug and follow her in. Ten minutes later, I’ve got a paper sack filled with chocolate-covered jellies and buttery fudge, and Cairstina’s gleefully licking a chocolate sucker, but we’ve no news on Paisley.
Cairstina stops short and sends me another text, keeping the chocolate between her lips as she fumbles with her phone.
The bookstore! She said one of her favorite places to go to relax was the bookstore. Remember? That’s where she picked up the Scottish mafia books.
I give her a teasing look. “Is it coincidence that our search involves all of your favorite things?”
She gives me that almost-shy, teasing look I’ve come to crave from her. I’d say I have a heart of ice, but I swear this girl melts it when she looks like that.
On impulse, I take her by the hand as we enter the bookstore. I hear a familiar voice when the door closes behind us.
“There y’are, Fran. Have you anything to tell us?”
Tate stands with his arms crossed in the military section, and Fran stands across from him. Her eyes are alight with excitement. She clasps her hands together. “Aye, I looked back through my texts from Paisley last night, and I know for a fact she was with Jack.”
“Right,” Tate says, as we come around the corner. “But can you narrow it down?”
Fran nods. “I can. I remembered he plays rugby with a bloke in my lit class, so I looked him up and sent him a message.”
Tate’s brow draws together and he frowns. “Oh?”
She nods. “Aye. Got in touch, asked him some questions. He’s a fucking wanker, but I did manage to get Jack’s address out of him.”
Tate leans menacingly on a side table with familiar-looking covers. I walk closer and nearly groan. Those terrible books my sisters pawned off on Cairstina.
“Send it to me, lass.”
Fran nods, then her eyes light up when she sees me and Cairstina.
“Hello there, Leith,” she says with a smile.
I growl at her, and shake my head. I don’t like people using my name in public, but she doesn’t seem to care a lick. She smiles curiously at Cairstina. “And you are…?”
“She’s with me,” I tell her, putting a protective arm around Cairstina’s shoulders.
Fran looks mildly surprised, but only nods. “Name’s Fran,” she says with a smile. She winks and jerks her head to us. “Friend of the family.”
Cairstina takes her hand and shakes it, then looks down. It must be awkward not being able to finish the most basic of formalities like an introduction, but I’m pleased. Even if she could speak, I wouldn’t want her saying her name in public.
Cairstina’s eyes alight on the books on the table, and she claps her hands in delight. She points to the cover, then wiggles her brows at Fran, who laughs heartily.
“Oh, I’ve heard good things about those books,” she says with a grin. “Can’t say I’ve read them myself. Should I?”
Cairstina nods vehemently, urging her on, and Fran grins. “Excellent. I’ll have to remember that.”
“Did you send the address to Tate?” I’ve no patience for this nonsensical chatter.
“Aye,” she says cheerfully, not at all daunted by my short temper. “And I’ll accompany you, then?”
“This time, aye.” I nod. “You may prove useful.”
She gives me a smarmy look. “Aw, you’re too kind. I love to prove useful.” But she follows us out of the shop, nonetheless.