Slay King (Georgia Smoke #2) Read Online Abbi Glines

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: Georgia Smoke Series by Abbi Glines
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
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If I lied and he found out, it was likely that I’d die. A very brutal death. My hopes that King would come for me had just taken a hit. Was there truth to what he had said? King had been protecting me, but slacked off? Had I missed that? What if he’d wanted me taken? No. He wouldn’t do that. Even if he was bored with me, he wasn’t cruel. He cared about me. That wasn’t something he could fake. I knew he cared. He’d begged me not to leave him and go to Ocala. I would not let this man convince me I wasn’t important to King anymore.

“Churchill is dead,” I said, hoping this wasn’t a mistake and I ended up dead before the sun set.

Falcon leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face. “I see. Not surprised. I was beginning to think this might be the case when my men could find no sign of him. That normally only happens when the Mafia takes someone. They disappear.”

He cleared his throat, then held up his hand and did that small flick of his fingers to beckon someone.

“I still want my money,” he informed me as one of the servers came to fill his cup of coffee. “If Millroe is dead, then they’ve got all his money. His house is on the market, and I assume that was also the family’s doing. He owed them money as well, and per usual, they took it back, along with everything else, including the wife. They don’t leave a stone unturned.” There was a trace of respect in his tone, mixed with annoyance.

I remained silent with my hands clasped in my lap. Speaking when spoken to was a rule I would abide. No need to give him more information than needed. He ran his fingertip around the rim of his cup as he stared at it in thought.

When he finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, he gave me a small nod. “Very well. You will stay here. They wanted you bad enough to take you, which means someone finds you important. When they hand over my money with interest, then they can have you back. That is, if you want to go back there. I’m an equal opportunity kind of man. I can see your appeal, and I am happy to offer you a place here.”

Oh heck no. I shook my head. “I want my own life,” I said. “They are going to give me that when I am safe.” From you, before I ended up pregnant.

Now, I wasn’t sure what my future held.

“I see,” he said.

We sat there in silence for a few moments, and then he cleared his throat and set his cup down. “Then, you’ll stay here until I have my money. You can return to them. I do not want a war with the family. We’ve managed to survive this long without issue, and I don’t want to waste men and resources on that battle. I’ve heard the young Hughes is now in control, and his reputation is far more threatening than his father’s.”

Falcon stood up. “But the longer they make me wait, then I will have to use you to speed things up. Pain will be involved. I’m sorry in advance. Let’s hope you’re as important to them as I think you are. I truly hate to hurt a pretty face.”

He beamed a bright smile at me then. “Now, eat. The food is excellent, and if I do return you to the family, I’d like to show you were well taken care of.”

I sat there as he walked past me.

When he walked out of the open double doors, he snapped, “Tabor, Join Mrs. Millroe as she has her meal.”

The man who had come to retrieve me walked back inside, and he gave me a smile that didn’t look calculating. I felt somewhat relieved to see him even if he was the enemy. He wasn’t the one who had threatened me.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, walking over and taking the plate that sat in front of me. “I’ll just give you some of everything. You can eat whatever you prefer.”

I said nothing as he did just that, then placed the overflowing plate back in front of me before walking to the other side of the table and taking a plate to fill for himself.

“The pastries are made fresh by our pastry chef. He trained in France for five years. They’re delicious,” he told me before taking three different ones from the tiered tray.

“What will he do to me if they don’t give him the money he wants?” I asked, needing to plan. Be prepared.

He glanced up at me, then looked back down at one of the trays that sat over a small flame. “He won’t do anything. One of our men will.”


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