Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Mason makes a growling sound, and I glance at him.
“Your ex-boyfriend’s name?” Maverick asks.
“Enzo.”
His eyes go wide. “Enzo Marx?”
I blink. “Yeah. How do you know his name?”
Maverick grunts, and Malakai shakes his head. “We’ve been delvin’ a bit into the drug world lately, you could say, and that name did happen to pop up a few times on our search for someone else. You do realize your boyfriend is a big-time dealer, yeah?”
I blink. “I knew he was into drugs, I even knew he was selling them, but I figured it was just to friends, people like that. I knew enough to get him locked up for six months, but I didn’t realize he was into big-time dealing.”
This is news to me.
Big news.
Huge news.
If Enzo is dealing to that degree, how come he never got longer? Or did the police simply not find out that much? I guess if no one talked, they wouldn’t. I only got him for possession; I knew he had it on him, and I knew where. But dealing. That’s a whole different kettle of fish.
“Yeah,” Koda mutters, looking agitated. “He’s dealin’ all right. Heard his name all over the fuckin’ streets. Dodgy motherfucker, stealin’ and lyin’. He’s got dangerous people after him.”
God.
I rub my arms. “H-h-h-how dangerous?”
“Dangerous enough,” Malakai informs. “This man here—” he shoves a finger in the direction of the beaten man “—is probably the least of his, and your, problems.”
“B-b-but he told me he only owed a little bit of money and was content with me paying it off once he got out.”
“He isn’t goin’ to say no to gettin’ one person of his back, Saskia,” Mason mutters. “That’s common sense. Doesn’t mean he don’t have other fish to fry also. Probably would have used you for that, too. My guess, though, is he’ll probably do a runner. He’s locked up, people think he gave information away, forget the debts, he’ll get a bullet to the brain just for that alone.”
A bullet to the brain?
I feel unwell.
Scarlett stands next to me—she’s the only girl here with the men tonight, but I’m thankful. This is a lot to take in, and I don’t honestly know where I’m supposed to go from here. Am I in danger? Or did Enzo just send this man over to scare me into paying him money again? Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Scarlett takes my hand and squeezes it.
“We’ll get more info out of this fucker,” Koda says, jabbing the man in the ribs so hard he winces. “Until then, keep the doors locked when you’re here, and be careful when you’re out and about. Enzo is pissed at you, he might name drop just from that alone.”
“We’ll have someone watch the place, too,” Malakai says. “When Mason isn’t here.”
“So, I’m like a prisoner now?” I murmur.
“Better than bein’ dead, ain’t it?” Mason grunts.
“Fuck off, Mason,” I snap.
His eyes get wide, and even I’m surprised by my words. His comment pissed me off, only I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’m scared, or maybe because he made me feel stupid. Either way, I didn’t mean for those words to come out quite so ... harshly.
“Watch it,” he growls.
“Enough,” Malakai says. “Long night. Everyone needs to wind down. We’ll take this fucker back to the club. Mason, you stay here with Saskia in case anyone comes back.”
“You want me to stay?” Scarlett asks.
“No, I’m okay, thanks, though.” I smile at her.
She nods and lets me go, joining Maverick.
“Mason,” Malakai says, and Mason looks to him.
“What?”
“Be nice to her, yeah?”
Mason grunts. I roll my eyes.
And then they lift the bloodied man and leave, and I’m suddenly very alone with Mason and not sure what to do. I glance at his hand, he’s got a towel wrapped loosely around it.
“You got a first-aid kit?” I ask him.
“It’s fine.”
“For the love of God, Mason. Do not fuck with me right now. Where in the ever-loving hell is your first-aid kit?”
He stares at me, then growls, “Under the sink.”
I move into the kitchen and go under the sink, digging around until I find it, then I join Mason who is now sitting at the massive dining table. I sit right in front of him, open the kit, and reach out for his hand. He lets me take it, grudgingly, and I remove the towel. It’s a deep cut, not quite enough for stitches thank goodness, but deep enough that it was close.
“You’re lucky, this is pretty deep,” I say.
“Had worse.”
“I’m sure you have,” I mumble.
I start cleaning his hand with an alcohol swab, removing the dried blood. He says nothing for a few moments, and not once does he flinch. Eventually, though, he says in a low, gravelly tone, “You told him you weren’t paying the money.”
I nod, keeping his hand in mine and keeping focus on it.