Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Standing by her bed, my knees go weak. I love her so damn much.
I reach for her and touch her face, wanting to soothe her but at the same time needing to feel her.
“Maybe touching isn’t such a good—”
I throw the doctor a murderous look.
He shrinks back. “But, of course, studies do suggest it might help. Some even suggest it encourages them out of comas. But there’s no—”
I turn back to Rory but direct my words at him. “Stop talking.”
“Of course, I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. In fact, how about I give you both a moment of privacy.”
“That would be a very good idea,” I say.
He leaves, and I kneel beside the hospital bed. Rory looks so small and vulnerable, and Christ, it fucking hurts to know it’s my fault. If I had only checked the psychopath for a second gun before I threw him overboard, she wouldn’t be in this bed.
I take her hand in mine and press my lips to her cool skin. “Don’t leave me, baby. Don’t you do that to me. I didn’t know what fucking love was until I met you, and if you don’t wake up and tell me to take a chill pill and lighten the fuck up, I don’t know how I’m going to fucking survive it.”
Another wave of fear rolls through me, and I drop my head.
This is pure fucking hell.
But I have to do something to make it right.
The doctor said the best thing I can do for Rory is make sure things are in order when she wakes up so she doesn’t have anything but her recuperation to think about.
I think about everything that’s happened in the last five weeks since she walked into my life and stole my heart. About the hit. About the lies. About the mess we’ve made. And it makes me fight the tears forming behind my eyes. My jaw hurts from gritting my teeth, and there’s an iceberg in my throat.
“Wake up, little one, and I promise I’ll make things right.”
I stand and lean down to kiss her forehead before I leave.
Then I storm out of the room to find Jack.
An hour later, we’re on our way to the airport.
By the time we land, Paw has gotten us all the information we need to know.
We take a hire car to Dorchester. Rory’s mom, who according to Paw’s information, is called Ariana, opens the door. Dressed in a satin jumpsuit and enough gold to sink a ship, she’s smoking a cigarette and smells like beer.
Her eyes light up when she sees Jack.
But when she sees me, her appreciation turns to horror.
She doesn’t slam the door in our face, she’s too busy running for the hills.
No doubt, going for a gun.
Which would be good since Jack and I are unarmed. Airports don’t like you carrying a couple of handguns stashed on your body, and we didn’t have time to sort an alternative. If she gets a gun, I’ll take it from her.
As soon as we enter the house, a fat man with a receding hairline steps out from the kitchen to the left, blocking our path. He’s wearing nothing but a white tank top and pants. He gleams with gold jewelry, a gold watch, gold bracelets, and a thick gold chain around his neck sitting on a bed of wiry white and ginger chest hair.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks me.
Ariana runs at us, yelling and pointing a gun like she’s Ma Baker.
But it’s nothing for me to take it off her.
One second, she’s holding it, the next it’s in my hand, and she’s staring at me like I’ve performed a magic trick.
“Do your worst, you motherfucking murderer. You killed our Joey. You’re a cocksucker, a goddamn motherfucking cocksucker.”
Jack glares at her. “Shut up.”
But she ignores him and lunges at me. I sidestep, and she loses her balance, and I have to grab her arm to stop her from falling.
“Fuck you.” She has mean eyes. “Get your motherfucking hands off me.”
“Your daughter is in hospital,” I say.
She gives me a blank look. “So?”
I grit my teeth.
I should’ve let her fall on her face.
“You don’t want to know? Or you don’t care?” I ask.
“I lost that kid years ago. She was a daddy’s girl. She didn’t like me, and I didn’t much like her. Last I heard, she was shaking her moneymaker for men in some seedy club. Girl is probably better off dead.”
I hate this woman.
Her words set off a violent storm in my head, and I struggle to contain it.
She goes to say something more, but Jack sears her mouth shut with a threatening look.
He holds up the gun. “You’ll put your goddamn manners back in and show us some respect. Let’s talk in the living room.” He points to Ariana. “You, Calamity Jane, lead the way.”