Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Speak for yourself,” Coast shot back at Velle.
More of the current resident loose cannon, Coast wore his crazy on his sleeve. Right there with all of his tattoos. Including one that, supposedly, was a tally of how many lives he’d taken so far.
I liked Coast.
Now that Cato was kind of wrapped up a lot with his girl, I would have felt kind of adrift if Coast hadn’t been around. Always ready to party or to hit the clubs. Anything that involved music, booze, and chicks.
“Please,” Velle shot back, shaking his head. “No one who is as good with kids as you are could be all hard,” he said before moving outside.
“Whatcha making?” I asked Eddie as he opened the fridge and started unloading a shitton of items onto the counter.
“Enchiladas and a chopped salad,” he said as he went into the pantry to get some more supplies. “If you give me an hour, I’ll have some to bring to your uncle,” he added.
I checked the clock, deciding it was no big deal to be later than usual. It wasn’t like the old man wanted me there anyway.
He’d been in rare form the week before. Sure, his back had been tweaking him, but he’d been almost intolerable. Spouting off shit about myself and both of my long-dead parents while I just tried to get him settled in his chair again.
I hadn’t bothered to try to do any cleaning up or shit like that, not wanting to listen to him for any longer.
I did manage to pass him the offer from Jade. That had gone about as I expected. Plus a few new inventive curse words for good measure.
I didn’t know how the man got one look at that woman and didn’t want her pretty up in his apartment as much as possible.
She was one of those chicks who was just naturally gorgeous. Long, wavy brown hair that the sun kissed at the ends, bleaching them almost blonde. Oval face with high cheekbones, pretty brown eyes, a slightly dimpled chin, and a generous mouth. And that smile? Fuck, that was easily her best feature. And she did it easily and fully, making little lines crease her lips on each side and showing off one charmingly pointy eye tooth.
Imperfectly perfect.
She hadn’t had a stitch of makeup on, either.
She had a long, lean body clad in one of those flowing floral sundresses that flirted with the floor and had a deep V down the chest. It didn’t actually show anything, but it hinted at how easily some of her assets could be seen.
She’d even been gorgeous as she’d been scolding me about not taking good enough care of my uncle.
Hotter still when I’d looked up from jotting down my number for her and found her eyes at half-mast, an unmistakable sign of desire.
If we hadn’t been in my uncle’s dingy-ass apartment, I would have pushed her back against the wall to taste that mouth of hers.
As it was, my sorry ass was kind of hoping to run into her in the hall again this week since she hadn’t used my number to invite me over.
And, yeah, some part of me had been hoping for that. Even checking my phone for that. As pathetic as that was. Especially considering how the club was always swarmed with lots of pretty girls.
“How’s your uncle doing?” York, one of the new prospects, asked.
York was tall and on the burly side. He looked like the kind of guy who belonged in flannel with an ax on his shoulder, not in a club down in Florida. But here he was, regardless. A little older than the rest of us. And quieter. But he was always down to spend some time with the club girls too. I wasn’t sure I ever saw him without a girl on his lap playing with his beard and likely making comments about all the interesting places they could get some beard burn if they took things up to a room.
He’d left his life in New York state hiding bodies for the mob to come down this way to take care of his ailing grandfather. So while he didn’t have to deal with the abuse that I did from my grandfather, and now my uncle, he understood the importance of putting in the work. And how mentally and emotionally draining it could be.
“He’s getting weaker,” I admitted. “Falling more. But he won’t hear about going out to, or having someone come in to, do physical therapy.
“Sorry to hear that,” York said, wrapping his hand around his cup of coffee. “All you can do is all you can do,” he added, shrugging. “Don’t beat yourself up about that.”
That was true.
I did have an order out for a custom electric wheelchair, though. He was going to bitch and moan about it when it showed up. But it wasn’t like he could drag the thing back out of his apartment anyway, so I figured I could just bring it in and leave it there. Eventually, his stubborn ass would start using it. And I would bite my ‘I told you so’s’ when I saw him buzzing around in the thing that would damn sure make his life easier as he lost more and more mobility.