Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
The subject had always been pretty close to his heart, first with his dad, then with me.
He had this vendetta against the gangs that would never be assuaged as long as he lived.
“What are you thinking so hard about over there?”
I looked up to find Costas closing the door on a kid—probably a gang member, but I chose not to look too closely or listen too hard—staring at me.
“I’m thinking that you need to stop treating our shared house as a clubhouse and find a new fucking hobby,” I snapped.
Okay, so I hadn’t exactly been thinking that.
Truthfully, though, I was annoyed with his constant gang member presence, I tried really, really hard to be dumb and blind when it came to whatever he was doing.
Costas did take some of my feelings into consideration. He only conducted business when I wasn’t in the house, or was asleep—and the only reason I knew he conducted business when I was asleep was sometimes I’d wake up and hear him talking outside with someone.
“It’s not a hobby.” Costas eyes went dark. “It’s a calling.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re the smartest man I’ve ever met, Costas. Why do you do this?”
This was a constant argument with us. I’d ask him if he was done with the gang thing yet, and he’d tell me no. I’d tell him he was stupid for playing this dangerous game, and one day he’d wind up dead, and he’d tell me he would live forever.
The only thing that we seemed to agree on when it came to whatever stupid gang business he had was that he should keep it as far away from me as possible. And, so far, he’d managed to do that.
But the activity had started to pick up at our place.
“When are you moving back home?” I asked curiously.
When are you going to let me live here by myself since you have a paid for loft in downtown Dallas?
Costas crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Costas, I’ve lived by myself for a really long time. I’m not really hip on living with my brother for the rest of my life.”
His lips twitched.
I loved my brother unconditionally.
I loved him so much that I wasn’t willing to give him up for the man I loved.
If life was fair, I wouldn’t have to choose.
Quinn Carter was the love of my life. But Costas Rodriguez was my shelter in the storm.
He’d been with me when I needed him most. He’d raised me. He’d protected me.
And, in the end, Quinn had left when Costas had stayed.
That was the quick of it.
“You’re never here to see me, sis,” he said.
“I’m here right now,” I pointed out.
“You’re about to go catch a flight to Tampa, and fly back, so you can get some flight hours in with the airlines. Then, while you’re at the airport, you’re gonna talk ol’ Tom into flying you up to let you skydive,” he said. “You saw me for ten minutes today. Tomorrow, it’ll be more like five since you have to work.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t really care about that, Costas. I care that you have people coming in and out of this house when I’m not here, and I don’t like leaving my stuff unattended with people I don’t know. I can’t hang my bras up in the bathroom either, because they’re always moved.”
“They’re moved because you hang them up in the bathroom, then I have to take them down to take a shower,” he pointed out.
“You’re taking a shower in the master bathroom, which I’ve been using since I moved back. You have a bathroom in your own side of the house,” I said. “You don’t respect my boundaries.”
Costas snorted. “We’ve never respected each other’s boundaries.”
“And I could deal with that when I had my own place and could force you to respect my boundaries. But things need to change. This is my home,” I told him. “And I don’t like what you’re doing here. I want peace, Costas. I don’t want gang shit getting anywhere near me.”
Costas sighed. “It’s…”
My alarm sounded, indicating it was time for me to head to the airport.
“We’ll be talking about this later,” I said. “And don’t sweettalk the mail lady again. I want my packages delivered all at once. Not once a day so she has a reason to come to the door.”
Costas snorted.
“That’s not what I did,” he argued.
“It’s exactly what you did.” I caught up my backpack that had snacks and drinks in it—there was no way I was paying airport prices for those, and I didn’t have time to go to the pilots’ lounge today—and headed out.
Today I was flying to Tampa in a quick turnaround. The same flight crew would be handling both flights, and since I cherry-picked which flights I piloted to keep up my required flight hours, I also chose the flight crews that I wanted to work with.