Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Some hero’s reward,” Royce muttered, jerking his chin at the inventory sheet resting on the edge of the table.
“I’ll take it,” Dom said, smirking at his friend. “Dealing with screaming fans and pushy reporters gets old fast.”
“Thanks.”
There was a wealth of sarcasm and derision in that single word, but that was Royce. A man of few words but they carried a shit-ton of meaning when he bothered to speak at all.
“How’s Marc?”
Royce’s dark expression faded at the mere mention of his boyfriend, and his smirk turned into something closer to a smile. “Begging me to get him an introduction to Elrige.”
“Him too?” Dom chuckled. Marc Foster was one of the most successful art gallery owners in Cincinnati. Hell, he had several successful galleries around the world. He was also a damn good artist, though few people had seen his work. Just some friends. And since Royce considered Dom a good friend, he’d been invited to Marc’s house and seen many of the paintings Marc had done of Royce. “I thought he knew a bunch of celebrities. How can he need your help?”
“Apparently their paths have not crossed. He claims he’s got the perfect piece for Elrige.”
“Yeah, and isn’t Silver Blaze one of Marc’s favorite movies?” Dom teased.
“You’re not helping.”
Dom just chuckled as he resumed cleaning and putting together the Glock in his hands. Royce worked around him, checking out his gun for the evening and the necessary ammo.
The silence was comfortable and easy, but Royce’s presence reminded Dom that they both had less-than-pristine pasts, though Royce didn’t realize it. Royce had been born into a New York mob family and then worked as an enforcer for a loan shark. Sure, it wasn’t the same, but Royce chose to leave that life and start fresh…before it came back to threaten everything.
“Royce…can I ask you a personal question?”
The other man stopped and raised a dark eyebrow at him. “I’ve never known you to ask permission before. This must be serious.”
Dom rolled his eyes and then returned them to the gun in his hands. “Did you ever worry about your past coming back to fuck up your life?”
“You mean like how my uncle nearly killed my mom and almost cost me Marc?” Royce asked, his voice wry.
“Or some variation of that.”
Royce chuckled softly. He put the gun he’d been checking on the worktable and leaned his forearms on the top. “I did for a time when I first moved to the area and then when I got the job with Ward, but after a while, I forgot about him. I just concentrated on the job and Marc. The bastard caught me off guard when he struck.”
“Now that you know, what would you have done differently?”
Royce watched him for several seconds, his eyes narrowed, weighing him. He could almost hear the wheels turning in Royce’s brain as the man tried to figure out the reason for Dom’s questions. A part of him wanted to tell Royce, to come clean to all of them, but he was ashamed of his past. He couldn’t risk losing them.
“Nothing,” Royce said firmly.
“What? What do you mean? You just said your mom almost died, and you could have lost Marc. Why would you not do anything if you could have?”
“Anything I could have done differently would mean possibly missing out on the friends I have here at Ward. It would mean not having Marc in my life. There isn’t anything that would convince me to walk away from those two things. My mom is safe, and my uncle is out of my life.”
Dom grunted. It had all worked out for Royce, and now he was happily involved with a man who loved him. But was he willing to risk his life—or even Abe’s—where his brother was concerned? Last time he’d seen James, he was sure that his brother had gone insane. The guilt over leaving him out there to wreak havoc had nearly taken him down—but James was still his brother and like it or not, they’d had a tight bond during those early years when their father had used them to trick marks.
How was he supposed to protect his friends from James? The only thing he could even think of was packing a bag and disappearing completely. But he loved his life. He didn’t want to leave and start all over again. But if it meant keeping people safe…
“Don’t run.”
Dom’s head jerked up at Royce’s hard voice.
“Don’t run,” he repeated in the same unyielding tone. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can almost hear that thought racing through your brain.” He reached out and poked Dom’s temple. “You’ve got a good life here and people who will help you.”
He grunted again with a nod. If he opened his mouth, things were going to come spilling out, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.