Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“I don’t know,” I say, as Maggie goes all out demonic and starts screaming. “No, no, no, baby, it’s okay.” I lift her to my shoulder, patting at her back, focusing on her wind. Not the rage. “Daddy’s here, don’t cry.”
“Then what the fuck’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Brad says loudly, to be heard over Maggie. “Is the emblem carved into their chests.” I look across to Brad, his finger on the top picture. “That’s the Black family emblem.”
“And there are only two members of the Black family alive,” I add.
James takes a wary step away, looking between Brad and me. AKA: the only two members of the Black family still alive. “When did these men die?” He turns his attention to Higham.
“At a guess, within the past week.”
“Fuck.”
“Shhhh,” I hush, fighting with Maggie, my mind sprinting, question after question turning over in my head. Who did this? What does it mean? My ears are starting to ring. Nolan smacks the door open with Maggie’s pram.
He reads the room in an instant. “What?” he asks, looking at us all while Maggie continues on her mission to bring the fucking roof down with her cries. Fuck, I can’t think. But who the fuck carved that emblem on those chests and why isn’t my priority right now. I go to Nolan and claim the pram, laying Maggie down. I catch a whiff of what may be the problem. “Where’s her bag?”
“Here.” Pearl appears, holding up Maggie’s changing bag. “Everything okay?” she asks, obviously sensing the tension, the bag lowering.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Brad snaps, taking her arm and guiding her out of the office. She doesn’t protest. She should. In fact, if I were her, I’d punch the fucker on the nose. I can’t even blame his mood on this shocking revelation. This is just Brad lately and, unfortunately for Pearl, she seems to be a trigger.
“You’re such a fucking dick,” I say to him as I push Maggie out of the office. “No one says a word about those pictures until I’m back.” I slam the door, not that you can hear it over Maggie’s cries, and wheel her down the corridor to the restrooms. I pass a sheepish-looking Pearl. “You free?”
“Yeah,” she breathes, bringing the bag.
“Ignore him,” I tell her over my shoulder, reaching over Maggie’s pram and pushing the door open, wheeling her in.
“I’m trying,” she says quietly, looking back at the office. “I don’t know what his problem is.”
I laugh under my breath. “You don’t want to.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Pass me her changing mat.”
“What’s happened?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. This floor been cleaned?”
“Yes, a few hours ago.”
I accept the mat and roll it out on the floor. It’s not ideal, but baby-changing facilities aren’t the norm in a strip joint. I lay Maggie down and pull the poppers of her sleepsuit open, pulling her legs out. “I thought you were with Rose.”
“She got a call from the school.”
I look up, stalling in my task. Rose got a call? But I’m the first contact. And then I remember. My phone’s dead. Because it’s been bugged. More questions. “Tell me Tank went with her.”
Pearl smiles. “And Beau.”
I nod, not feeling particularly reassured—what the fuck’s happened?—and get back to the business of Maggie’s shitty nappy. And boy is it shitty. “Jesus Christ,” I mumble, wiping her up. “Where the hell does it come from?”
Pearl laughs and passes me the cream. “Do you want me to watch her for a while?”
“I’d say yes, but her mother would tear me to shreds if she found out I’d palmed her off on anyone.” I give Pearl a raised brow. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be working? Let’s not give Brad any more reason to be a grumpy arsehole.” I notice a gold ring in the corner of Pearl’s lip, and she reaches for it, fiddling with the delicate piece of jewelry.
“I had it re-pierced.”
“Because they removed it,” I say, swallowing, and she nods, only very mildly. The hell Rose went through, what happened to Pearl. I look down at Maggie. She’s suddenly quiet now, looking up at me. Her blue eyes are so clear. No hurt, no damage, no comprehension of the world she’s been born into. Fucking hell, I have a whole new level of disgust and anger now. It’s bad enough my wife became a victim of that darkness. My daughter? My stomach turns, and I once again wonder how many of the fuckers are still out there. Gangs like that don’t just disappear.
I accept the nappy Pearl’s holding out to me and get Maggie in it, wrestling with her little legs to get them back in the sleepsuit. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends what it is?” Pearl gets up onto the counter, waiting.
I fasten the last popper and pick Maggie up, and she burps, her whole little body relaxing, as does mine, the relief immeasurable. “Good girl,” I breathe, offering her the bottle again. This time, she takes it, no fight or drama. “What was so terrible back home that makes living here in Miami with mafia and danger around every corner so appealing?” Not to mention the fact that Brad’s a complete arsehole toward her. Who the fuck would stick around to be treated like that?