Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
She takes big, shuddering breaths. I can hear the tears in her voice. They’re like a knife into my throat. “Four guys. Big guys with guns. They showed up and started trashing the place. One of them hit Fulco really hard in the face, made him bleed—”
“Is he okay?” I ask, jaw clenched down so hard I think my teeth might crack. Carson’s watching, eyes narrowed. I can’t tell if that’s concern or anger. Maybe a bit of both.
“He’s okay. It’s just a shallow cut on his eyebrow. But, Ash, they kept asking about you, and everyone is absolutely freaking out right now.”
“I’ll be there in a minute. Are they gone?”
“They left like ten seconds before I called.”
“All right. Stay put. Keep everyone inside.” I hesitate, looking at Carson. “And Bernie? Don’t call the cops.”
Silence. I can hear someone talking in the background. Someone else crying. I feel Bernie’s stunned quiet like an anvil on my head.
Carson’s lips curl into an approving smile.
What did he do to me? Is he really corrupting me already?
I feel sick as Bernie bursts out, “What do you mean, don’t call the cops? They had guns! You’re in danger, Ash, we have to do something!”
“They’re not going to help at all. I went to them earlier, remember?”
“That was about your brother, this is about you. Ash, you gotta go to the police.”
“Just stay put, okay? Keep everyone inside. I’ll be there soon.”
“Ash! What the fu—”
I hang up then look at Carson. He doesn’t move. I feel like I can’t breathe.
I should be running away, screaming my head off. I should be calling the police, the FBI, the freaking CIA, anyone that might be able to help me, except all I can do is stand as a wave of horror rolls down my spine.
They showed up at Smoke.
They found me.
They broke my bar, scared my employees, and hurt Fulco.
The guys that killed my father, my uncles. That tried to murder my brother.
They’re coming for me now, and my friends are standing in their way.
“I need your help,” I say, forcing the words out like solid sick.
Though I haven’t given him what he really wants yet, I feel like I’m signing my soul over to the devil.
Carson’s phone is already out. “Fitz?” he says to the person on the other line. “Gather a crew. I need muscle right now. We have work to do.”
Chapter 16
Ash
“I should’ve tied you up and left you back at the mansion,” Carson grumbles as his driver Fitz speeds toward Bottle of Smoke.
“I’d chew my way out, call a cab, and stab you to death in front of my employees if you tried it.”
Carson shakes his head with a mocking smile. I only glare at him, my body buzzing with nerves. Fitz glances back at me in the rearview mirror, looking surprised. Maybe he’s not used to people giving his precious boss shit.
Right now, I’d gladly fist-fight a shark in the middle of the ocean if it meant making sure my friends are okay.
Fulco’s hurt. Bernie says not bad, but still, one of my people got hurt because of me. I could hear someone else crying, probably Jamila, or maybe Keely, and Bernie sounded straight-up terrified. Hell, they’ll all be traumatized and maybe worse if I can’t find a way to fix this.
But what are my options?
I could go to the cops, but I still think they’re useless, and besides, I’m also pretty sure the Crowleys own them. I could close Smoke, go on the run—disappear somewhere far away, maybe move to a small town in Montana, change my name, try to start over. Though I have no money and no clue how I’d actually manage to survive.
I could hand myself over to the men trying to hurt me. At least then they’d have no reason to come after my friends. Though that would be the same as killing myself. Which doesn’t sound ideal.
I keep looking at Carson. He’s staring out the window, saying nothing, but I know what he’s thinking.
The bastard is my only option.
The only option worth a damn, at least.
If I marry him, that means protection for my friends. That means money for the bar, money for my people. Bonuses for the first time ever, plus retirement plans, dental, vision, whatever else they want.
That means locking myself in the Crowley mansion to play mobster’s wife for the rest of my days.
This is impossible. There’s no good option. I close my eyes as my fingers stray to the mark on my neck where Carson bit me. I touch it softly while a chill runs down my spine. I wish I could wipe it clean, go back to the moments before he kissed my neck, before he bit me, before he sent a wild thunderstorm of need into my guts.
I wish I could go back to the days where Carson was just another asshole criminal.