Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Man, now I missed Grace for a whole new reason. I’d never been jealous of her. Grace and Shan had just made sense, and I’d never pictured one without the other. I mean, except for in my shower, but that was harmless.
I didn’t like this one bit. I needed Shan to be straight and married. To Grace, preferably.
“I can’t believe you’re into men too,” I said. “You think you know a guy…”
He shook his head, a bit amused. “To be fair, I’m not into anyone.”
“Still.” I shrugged and downed the last of my drink.
Now I needed a smoke.
We should probably call it a night too. It was officially morning, judging by the traffic sounds nineteen floors below.
Chapter 4
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Nessa Murray was going to be trouble one day. Hell, she already was.
She emerged from the sea of arrivals at the airport, the face of a sweet schoolgirl, new threads from Burberry, innocence and class written all over her, but she had the mind of someone who’d been raised by mobsters. And right now, I watched her “stumble” into a woman and apologize profusely.
I shook my head and folded my arms over my chest.
She lit up when she spotted me, hurrying over with her rollaboard carry-on. “Hi!”
People around Nessa saw the sweet smiles, the green doe eyes, the dimples, and her dark waves bouncing. I saw a future Daughter of Munster. Her father and the rest of the family were kidding themselves when they raved about her intelligence and good grades. She’ll become a doctor or a lawyer one day, they said. Nah. She’d use her intelligence other ways.
“Dollface.” I extended a hand. “Fork it over.”
She scrunched her nose. “What—”
“Nessa.” I cocked a brow.
She rolled her eyes, then pouted, but did as told and handed over the wallet she’d lifted.
“Stay here,” I told her.
It took a few seconds to catch up with the woman, and there were people everywhere. “Ma’am. I think you dropped this.”
The blonde turned around, visibly confused, until she laid her eyes on her wallet. “Oh! Damn—thank you so much. Thank you.”
I dipped my chin before hurrying back to Nessa and ushering her outta there.
Overnight, the city had taken a Christmassy dump in every public area, and “Jingle Bell Rock” was on repeat wherever I went.
“I was going to buy you lunch with the money!” she defended.
“People don’t use cash anymore. What’s wrong with you? You’re too young to get into credit card fraud—and to get stuck on camera stealing.”
“I didn’t see any cameras…”
“Airports are like Vegas. Someone’s always watching.” When we reached my car, I stowed her luggage in the back, then rounded the SUV and opened the door for her. “But hey, welcome back to Philly.”
“Thank you!” She grinned and buckled in.
I sighed and closed the door. It was kinda impossible not to be amused. Though, I suspected it would fade sooner rather than later, ’cause she’d talked about shopping for Christmas presents during her stay, and unless Emilia had the time to take her, it would fall on me.
Before we left the airport property, I texted Nessa’s personal security back in Chicago to say she’d made it and that I was taking over now. She wasn’t allowed any privacy, but it was for her own safety. At least until we’d gotten rid of the last lingering Italians.
Eric was on the case for as long as it centered around surveillance and tracking. I didn’t know the current status, to be honest. I had enough on my plate. When they needed me to do something, I’d find out. But it couldn’t be anything high-risk at the moment. I would’ve been clued in.
In the meantime, I was busy turning Old Phil’s district into two separate turfs. Finn hadn’t given him any choice but to retire, and the dwindling profits spoke for themselves. In turn, Phil had reluctantly appointed two of his own sons as successors, which Finn had approved, and I had suggested we divvy things up. Two crews, two turfs. If that didn’t result in higher security in the shipyard, something was wrong.
Lunch was first on the agenda, and I only went to a single spot in the city for that. We headed back to my place, just so I could park my car in the garage, because fuck finding parking on the street when the bar was just a couple blocks away from where I lived.
A friend of the syndicate ran an Irish bar that served the best stew outside of Ireland, and I was mildly obsessed. The bar wasn’t even open for lunch, but Mick opened it up for us. For me, for Finn, for any of the crew bosses, in case we wanted a hot meal and a private spot to have sit-downs. And we did. Often.
Mick had five entrees on the menu, which never changed, and I’d honestly only tried one of them. Who the fuck went to an Irish bar to grab a burger or enchiladas when there was lamb stew? Morons, that’s who.