Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
"Know what?"
"What a risk I'd be taking. Me. My men. Even Gus. It's not like the golden age of crime. There is no respect for women and children anymore."
"Speaking of, your sister didn't exactly seem to know what was going on."
There was no logical reason for the disapproval to be in my tone. I kept a lot of shit from my own sisters. Because they would worry. Because they didn't need their last thoughts at night to be wondering if I was still alive, or if they'd wake up to that call that no one wants to get.
It made sense, when you did shit like we did for a living, to keep those who would worry needlessly a little in the dark.
So I had no place to give him shit about doing the same with his own sister.
A slow smile pulled up the edges of Huck's mouth, his head shaking. "Sometimes, it is easier to keep shit from Gus until she needs to know it. Think you've realized by now she's..."
"A handful," I supplied when he trailed off.
"A royal fucking pain in my ass, more like," Huck corrected, but his eyes were warm. "But I mostly created that monster, so I can't bitch too much about it. Gave her too long a leash as a kid."
"Your sister strikes me as the sort to have chewed through her leash if you tried to keep her on one."
"Yeah, that's Gus alright," he agreed, pride clear in his voice.
"She's not in on this?" I asked, holding a hand out again, meaning the family business.
"Nah. Gus works at an old folks' home."
"You're shitting me," I shot back.
I just couldn't picture that wild child in a pair of scrubs, spoon-feeding tapioca pudding to a bunch of blue hairs.
"Hard to picture, right?" he agreed. "Gus likes old people. She says that the closer they are to the end of their lives, the less they give a fuck. She likes that. They like that she still treats them like human beings instead of people with one foot in a grave. It gives her a little bit of normal in her otherwise ridiculous life."
"She live nearby?" I asked, hoping my interest was interpreted as professional, not personal.
"Five minutes down the road. She got her own place a couple years back after bitching about this place most of her life."
"How are you going to protect her if you are going to war?"
"She'd have to bring her stubborn ass back here until it blows over. Like it or not."
"What about her girl group?"
He waved that away. "Those girls change almost monthly at times. Ayanna is the only one with staying power. But Gus is a bit like a sun. Everyone is drawn to her, but she tends to burn when you stay too close for too long. The girls eventually decide to seek some shade. Or maybe find a life where they get to be the ones to shine."
"Shit, man, that was fucking poetic," I told him, holding up a pillow to block the empty bottle he tossed at me with a smile. It crashed to the floor somewhere behind me, something neither of us moved to deal with. "What about Ayanna, though?"
"Ayanna has a man who can protect her. Booker. Was a SEAL. Works at private security now. No one would be as safe as Ayanna if the shit hit the fan. I could probably even call in a marker, and get him to take on Gus too, if it came to that. But I'm hoping we can come up with a plan that makes that not necessary."
"You got ideas?"
"I have a lot of ideas," he agreed. "But it's late. And I think you've grilled me enough for one night, don't you?" he asked, reaching into his pocket to produce his keyring, wrangling one off, tossing it toward me. "This is to the empty apartment. The one on the left upstairs. It's yours as long as you stay. Get comfortable. We can talk more tomorrow."
With that, he moved to stand, grabbing a piece of pizza and making his way toward the bedroom, completely ignoring the busted glass, letting it crunch under his boot as he went.
So maybe there was something to Gus's annoyance at his housekeeping skills.
Dismissed, I grabbed the last piece of pizza and a beer, figuring the apartment upstairs would be bare, then made my way up.
It ended up being an almost exact replica of Huck's.
You walked in the door, and you were pretty much in the living room. There was an old gray couch that looked uncomfortable as fuck, a scuffed coffee table, and a single lamp with no shade. There was a large window in desperate need of a washing that had a fire escape attached.
Directly beside the living room was a U-shaped kitchen, one arm of it separating it from the living room while also serving as the dining space with two backless stools butted up to the side.