Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
But not before Uncle Mickey glances over his shoulder at him.
“That’s my niece, you fuckwad!” Mickey roars in anger.
Abel immediately starts crying.
The man looks between Mickey and me. “How was I supposed to know? I heard you shouting and thought that shithead, Dimitri, came back.”
Mickey points his meaty finger at me. “Does she look like Dimitri?”
The bald guy looks at me, as if he needs another look to answer the question, then says sheepishly, “No.”
“Fuck!” Mickey says in disgust and throws his hands up in the air. “I’m surrounded by stupid.”
The bald man’s head dips in shame. “Sorry, boss.”
All the while I try my best to calm Abel down.
Gently bouncing him, I rub his back and murmur soothing words. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s okay, I promise. Mommy’s got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Mickey looks over at Abel and me then scowls. “Bring me some scotch.”
Obviously eager to make up for his mistake, the bald man bobs his head up and down. “Right away, boss.”
“And bring some… refreshments for my niece and grandnephew,” Mickey tacks on.
The bald man freezes for a moment then glances over his shoulder at Mickey. He starts to open his mouth but stops the second Mickey glares daggers at him.
“Right away, boss,” the bald man repeats and disappears through the door that leads to the kitchen.
Uncle Mickey motions for me to approach as he lowers back down to the couch with a grunt.
For a split-second, everything inside me screams to turn around. To not go down this road.
I know exactly where it ends—in death.
This place, this man killed my father.
But, again, what other choice do I have?
For Abel’s sake, I move forward.
For his future, I continue to rub his little back and kiss the top of his head as I sit down on the couch opposite of Uncle Mickey.
Ready to pay for my sins and make a deal with the devil.
Uncle Mickey eyes me up and down then leans forward, hand reaching for the cigar he dropped in the ashtray before he must think better of it. Looking at Abel, he frowns and leans back.
Shifting in his seat, making the old leather creak, he tries to get comfortable.
“So…” he drawls out finally, looking a little uneasy. “What brings you here, Eden?”
Nothing would make me happier than to relish in making him uncomfortable. To draw this shit out.
But I don’t have time. Abel is almost out of formula.
The words sour in my stomach before I push them out of my mouth. “I need a job.”
“Oh?” Uncle Mickey sits up a little straighter.
He’s used to people coming to him for shit, and he’s probably relieved I’m not here to harass him about my father’s death.
When I nod my head sharply in confirmation, his lips twitch with the threat of a smirk. “Is Kyle not providing for you? Should I have a talk with his father? He and I go way back.”
I know all about him and Kyle’s dad. Hell, the two of them being best friends is how Kyle and I met in the first place.
I shake my head. “It won’t do any good.”
Abel giggles as my curls bounce around and grabs at them, but he tugs on one a little too hard.
I flinch when Uncle Mickey says, “Ah, that’s a shame.”
Focusing on Abel, I reach up and work on prying his surprisingly strong baby grip off my hair.
“I always thought Kyle was such a good boy. I thought he would take good care of you.”
Now I know he’s just fucking with me.
Carefully pulling my hair out of Abel’s fingers, I glare at Uncle Mickey.
He grins at me, showing his stained teeth. “The last time I saw you, you spat at my feet and said you never wanted to see my ugly face again.”
He’s trying to look smug but he can’t conceal the hurt that flashes in his eyes.
Spreading his hands, he asks, “Am I no longer ugly?”
I almost feel a pang of regret for being so mean.
Almost.
He’s my uncle. He’s blood.
But he got my father killed.
And I’ll never forgive him for it.
Never.
As it is, I have to swallow my pride and come to him with my hands held out like a beggar.
“No,” I grunt as I finally yank the last of my hair out of Abel’s grip.
“No?” he repeats in true surprise.
I’m tempted to smirk but refrain.
Shifting Abel into my lap, I slide off one of the many bracelets I wear just for him and push it into his little hands. “No, you’re not ugly, Uncle Mickey.”
Gripping the bracelet in his fist, Abel waves it around as if showing it to us then shoves it into his mouth.
Thank god he’s not teething right now.
Looking up, I meet Uncle Mickey’s eyes and stare hard into them. “You’re as pretty as a picture.”
Uncle Mickey frowns at me in confusion before what I said dawns on him.