Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Stomping over to me, she sits back on the bed and wraps her arms around me. I hug her back as hard as I can without choking her. She snickers, “Ha ha, bitch.” She holds me a long time before she mutters, “Not always gonna be like this. You’ll see.” And it makes me want to cry.
My eyes blur and the bridge of my nose tingles.
“I know,” I mumble into her shoulder.
Squeezing her once more, I release her and put on a huge fake smile. “Go. Quickly.”
Terah runs over to the windows that lead to my patio and blows me a kiss. She opens the door and steps out when we both hear the intercom in my room hiss before dad’s voice clearly sounds. “Terah. Delilah. Downstairs. Now.”
Terah’s stunned facial expression is priceless. I burst into laughter and say in a sing-song voice, “Someone’s busted.”
Eyes wide with shock, she whisper hisses, “No way! There’s no way he knows. This has gotta be something else.”
I shrug. “Lucky you didn’t go. We both would’ve been in lockdown for a month.”
Terah looks down at herself. She looks like she’s going clubbing and we need to cover her up quickly before my dad sees. “Take off your shoes and put on my robe. Wrap it up tight.”
She slips into my red Japanese silk robe and ties it so tight she’s probably cutting off the circulation from her waist down. We make our way downstairs and into the dining room. As soon as I see my dad, I know two things: he’s tired, and worried.
Shit. Not good.
Mom sits next to him, holding his hand, looking equally as tired and twice as worried.
Double shit. Something’s wrong.
Terah and I stand just inside the dining room door. We look at each other with obvious concern and she takes my hand in hers and squeezes. I clear my throat and my dad looks up. He puts on a fake smile. “Ah, there ye are. Come in, my girls. Take a seat.” I love my dad’s accent.
Terah and I sit close to each other. I look from mom to dad and ask, “What’s wrong? And you can’t lie for shit so don’t say ‘nothing’.”
Dad glares at me. “Language, Delilah.” I hate being called Delilah.
Mom pats his hand. She looks to me and my sister and explains, “There have been some problems at Flynn Logistics.”
Terah and I look at each other in shock before my sister whispers, “Are we losing the house?”
Dad’s brow furrows. “No. This isn’t about money,” he sighs and runs his hands down his face. Whatever this is, it’s affecting him…a lot.
My heart squeezes.
Sick of the run around, I look right at my dad. “What kind of problems?”
Dad inhales deeply and leans back in his chair. “Well, there have been some accusations thrown around. These accusations are the kind a person can go to jail for…for a very long time.”
My sister and I both squawk in disbelief, “What?”
Mom cuts in. “Calm down, girls. Your father hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s little they can do. We’ve allowed the police full access to computers and documents at the warehouse and to whatever else they need.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Dad nods. “Jett and Jamie are helping as much as they can. We’ve shown the police we’re being cooperative. I’ve left them to it. The police don’t want me back there till this has been sorted.”
Silence covers us like a thick fog. I shrink into myself. “Well, this certainly sucks balls.”
Dad’s lip twitches. “Yes, darling. It does suck balls. But like ye ma said, everything will be okay. I’m sure of it.”
Terah asks the question I’ve been dying to. “What exactly are the accusations?”
Dad looks between us a long moment before he answers, “Well, it’s complicated. All ye need to know is that we’re upping security here and at the warehouse. College is out of the question until this enquiry is complete.” Looking toward my sister, Dad’s face softens in apology. “Sorry, Terah.”
Terah looks as if she’s about to burst into tears. This is her second year of college. I’ve been working with dad at Flynn Logistics the past two years. He calls it an internship; I call it a sly way for him to keep an eye on me. The only two people I really see there are Jett and Jamie. I rarely leave the office.
Jett and Jamie Harrison are my dad’s right-hand men. They moved here from Ireland about three years ago. Well, actually, Dad brought them over from Ireland to come live with us and to work at the warehouse. Dad’s best friend growing up was a man named Kian Harrison. Although I never met him, I heard about him a lot and spoke to him on the phone some. He was a happy man, always laughing and making jokes. It never seemed to faze him that dad had become a big-shot businessman. To Kian, he’d always be Ciaran Flynn with the muddy face that played soccer with him whenever he could. They remained true friends until one night three years ago when Kian’s wife, Aileen, called to tell us that Kian had died from a heart attack. Dad spoke with Aileen a lot to check on her welfare. He sent money which she declined. Dad was devastated. No amount of money could fix this. Aileen called one night, and after a short conversation, Dad asked what he could do to help. He told her he’d do anything that was in his power. She timidly asked whether he’d give her twin sons jobs at Flynn Logistics. Dad was more than happy to do that. If Kian’s sons were anything like their father, they’d be a great addition to the business.