These Broken Hours – Vandello – Dark Mafia Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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Her eyes widen. “Really? Right now?”

“I’ll send my guys to keep an eye on you, but yes, right now.”

“You can go shopping for me too,” I say when Kady turns to me like she’s about to explode with excitement. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Whatever you say. Oh my god, this is going to be amazing, two entirely new wardrobes. Cora, you’re going to look so freaking good, I promise.”

“Maybe I should come after all…” I say slowly, frowning, but Kady’s already bouncing on her toes.

“I’ll need money. Lots of money.” She holds her hands out to Nolan. “Please?”

Nolan rubs his face with both hands then opens his freezer. He takes out a box of ice cream, opens the top, and tips it so Kady and I can see inside.

It’s filled with hundreds.

“I’d guess a couple thousand is in here.” He pops the top back on. “That’ll be enough for now.”

“For now!” Kady takes the container with barely concealed excitement. “Thank you so much, Nolan. You’re not as bad as everyone says, I swear! Although this better not be sticky!” She grabs the keys to our truck and hurries to the door. “See you two later.”

She disappears outside and slams the door behind her.

“I can’t believe she left that fast,” I say while laughing.

Nolan glares at me. “People don’t say I’m bad.”

“I bet they do,” I say, laughing harder, and he groans and shakes his head.

“I’m taking a shower.” He disappears back upstairs, leaving me alone.

I get myself under control. Nolan has no clue what he got himself into, bringing Kady back here. She’s acting like a little kid gawking at rich and fancy folks, but really, she’s biding her time until she strikes. It wouldn’t shock me if this entire house ends up looking like her dream home with pastels and teals and lace and ribbons and whatever else by the time we’re done staying in it.

I finish my coffee, wash the dishes, and head upstairs. My room is next to Nolan’s at the end of the hall and I can hear his shower running on the other side of my wall. I look out the back window and stare at the trees in the back yard, but they’re different trees, not the same forest I grew up with that became a part of my identity. They’re strangers, but maybe I can get to know them for a while at least. The woods stretch back pretty far, at least far enough that there might be trails worth hiking in there. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I might find a little solace in the darkness of those woods the same way I found some comfort in the quiet of the woods behind my mother’s trailer.

I lean against the window, forehead against the cold glass, and close my eyes.

My whole life was in that trailer. It seems absurd to feel bad about it burning down. The place wasn’t in good shape—it was too small and had a million problems that needed fixing—but it was home. It was hell and it was heaven, and everything I went through in my life happened in those little walls, in those small hallways, in those tiny rooms. That kitchen was my kitchen, the couch my couch, and now it’s gone.

Gone like Momma. Like everything.

“You okay?”

I turn and Nolan’s standing in the doorway. He’s in short gym shorts, no shirt, still damp from the shower. His hair’s messy, and he’s staring at me like he’s afraid I’m about to bolt.

I stare at him and something shivers down deep in my core. He’s muscular, much more defined and chiseled than when we were kids, with tattoos etched into his tan skin. A tree on his right arm, branches across his chest, a wolf and a river, a key and a heart with a knife jabbed through it. His lips part as he takes a step into my room and I turn to face him, back pressed to the window, heart thudding wildly as my eyes drift to his abdomen, to the V disappearing into his shorts, to the barely concealed outline of his bulge.

I quickly look back up, but he noticed.

“Every time I’m around you, I get in trouble,” I say as he comes a few steps closer. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that.”

“That’s why you keep coming back, isn’t it? You like the trouble.”

“I bet that’s what you tell yourself. All those dead bodies in your wake and you like to pretend they just love the trouble.”

“You’ve got no clue what I tell myself, princess.” He stands three feet from me, every hulking, shirtless, gorgeous, incredible inch of him. “You and your sister are both the same. You live in your little trailer and pretend like that’s enough while you shove against the boundaries of your life trying to find something better.”


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