Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Now I laugh because only Eric would take it upon himself to order pizza to be delivered to my apartment and I’m damn glad he’s alive to do it.
A few minutes later, Mia and I are sitting on barstools with Eric and Savage across from us, and Axe at the endcap, all of us eating pizza. “The attorney Ri enlisted in his dirty deeds is dead,” Mia says. “I can’t quite get my head around that.”
“Good fucking riddance,” Savage, says, finishing off what I think is most of a pizza with record-breaking speed. “He was a lowlife. And they got rid of him because they didn’t need him anymore.”
“And that means what?” Mia presses.
“Here’s what we know,” Eric begins, finishing off a slice. “We were smart enough to walk away when we saw the safe wired to blow.”
Savage finishes that thought before Eric gets the chance. “Those Dungeon assholes showed up after we exited the house. Which we know because us smart guys were lurking in the bushes, the way all honorable men do and all. They blew themselves the fuck up, at least a few of them did. I hear those are the brand of asshole that grow like weeds, but never fear. Eric is here. He shoved a bunch of cash into that dweeb attorney’s work safe and the rest of the Dungeon, the ones still alive, grabbed it and ran.”
I set my slice down, my gaze sharpening on Eric, who’s directly across from me. “How much money? And where did it come from?”
“Enough money,” Eric replies. “They won’t stay around to get busted, believe me.”
“Where did it come from?”
He arches a brow. “Does it matter?”
“If it came from your bank account, not mine, then yes. It matters.”
“You know I’d never spend your money without clearing it.”
“Exactly,” I say. “How much do I owe you?”
He shoots right back with, “It’s more about how much I owe you, now isn’t it?”
“You owe me nothing.”
“Untrue on every level. Bottom line,” he adds, “Blake’s tracking the Dungeon’s communications and so far, we believe this is over.”
“How much money?” I ask, looking at Savage.
“A fuck-ton.”
My gaze returns to Eric’s. “Then I should write the check out to you as a fuck-ton?”
Mia, my little keeper of peace, delicately clears her throat and changes the subject. “When do we know if this is over? Are we on lockdown?”
“We aren’t,” Eric replies. “In fact, Blake and I both agree that we need to act as normal as possible.”
“And then what?” Mia asks. “When are we free from this?”
I catch her hand. “Soon, baby.”
Her lips thin and she looks between me and Eric. “Now or in three months?”
Savage stands up. “Axe and I are going to leave you to this. We’ll be nearby if you need us.”
Axe pushes to his feet and offers us a mock salute. I’ve apparently gotten over him and his rash pulling of the gun. Funny how everyone being alive and well smooths out a wrinkle.
“Thanks, Axe,” Mia says. “Take all that chocolate if you want it.”
“Chocolate?” Savage asks, perking up. “What chocolate?”
Mia points to the living room and he heads that way, with Axe scowling and following on his heels.
Eric stands as well. “I need to hit the road.”
My lips press together. “Mia, baby, give me and Eric a moment.”
“Not tonight, Grayson,” Eric replies. “She’s home. Enjoy her being home. I’ll key in the security code and lock up.” With that, he heads out of the kitchen.
Bristling with his dismissal, I stand up with the intent of pursuing him, but Mia is instantly on her feet, stepping in front of me, her tiny hands settling on my chest. “Fighting over money, or me naked in your bed, our bed now, again.” Her blue eyes flash. “Choose now.”
When she puts it that way—Eric can wait.
I scoop her up and start walking to the bedroom.
Chapter seventy-eight
Mia
Grayson wastes no time settling me on the bed and coming down on top of me, the sweet weight of his big body anchored above mine by his elbows. “Mia,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.
The truth is, I’m roughened up with emotions, in a way no one else can.
I reach up, my fingers rasping over his newly formed stubble. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Me either, baby,” he murmurs, and the mix of tenderness and heat in his stare steals my breath. I still have moments when I can’t believe that this amazing man is affected by me. I know it’s part of what got us in trouble in the past, but I can’t help it. I’m his biggest fan. I will always be his biggest fan, but what I failed to see in the past, by no fault of his, is that he’s mine as well. And for all his years of experience, for all his worldliness, he’s damaged, and I know that I somehow speak to that damage in all the right ways.