Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
It was painfully clear how alone she'd been for so long, how much she was craving friendship.
"That's what she said," I confirmed.
"Do I want to know what a birthday party for a recently single Ayanna might be like?"
"With Gus taking charge of a lot of the planning?" I asked. "Probably not. Don't worry. I have bail money," I said, getting a throaty giggle from Sass.
"Well, I guess I will have to stay in the area for the next month or so."
The area.
"Just tossing it out there, I'd like that area to include my bed as much as possible. If not all that time."
"We'd need to eat," she reminded me, a smile in her voice.
"We can do that in bed too. I could find inventive places to use as a plate," I added.
"You're ridiculous."
"You love it," I shot back.
There was a short pause to that. I knew those words weren't going to come out of her mouth. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.
But she said the closest thing I knew she could at the moment.
"I don't hate it."
That was good enough for me.
Chapter Fourteen
Saskia
Huck had made the executive decision that the entire club showing up in force at the Triad headquarters would likely create more problems than it would fix.
And, after a little debating, we all sort of got on board with that idea.
The next day, with a lot of help from Arty, we had a file to go over about their organization.
"This is the leader," Arty said, pulling out a picture. "Jia Xú."
"I've never seen him before," I admitted. Jia was well-built in a way that said he spent a lot of time in the gym, so much time that you could make out muscle indentations through his black t-shirt. He kept his dark hair almost military short. "The guy I talked to had longer hair like... here," I said after shuffling through the pictures. "This was who I had contact with. And a couple other guys, too, but this was the one in charge of the operation."
"This is his younger brother, Shan," Arty explained. "He usually isn't the one in charge of operations," he went on. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." I'd seen his face many times over several conversations about the job. He'd been the one to lean in my window to drop the package.
There was no doubt in my mind.
"Weird, but okay, " Arty said, shrugging. "Well, this is a blueprint of the restaurant. The only thing is, this place here in the city plans," he said, pointing to a big block, "is supposedly a courtyard. But they closed it in three years ago. This is where I think you are most likely to find Jia when you go. And from what I could tell when I went to get take-out," he went on, shooting Che a smirk because Arty knew that none of the others found him particularly brave or hands-on.
He was clearly taking baby steps to prove them wrong. I imagined his little stint staying in Booker's office had made him want to break out of his shell a little bit.
I was torn about it. On the one hand, I wanted to be happy for him. Especially since being in his shell seemed to be detrimental to him physically since he forgot to eat and sleep. On the other hand, though, I knew he had no training, likely didn't even have a lot of street smarts. So the idea of him going by himself into a possibly sticky situation made my stomach swirl.
I had no right to feel that way, I reminded myself.
I liked Arty.
But I wasn't his sister. I wasn't really even a friend. I barely knew him. I barely knew any of them.
I'd been trying to convince myself of that a lot lately. It was like a mantra I kept repeating to myself all day, one that felt less and less true each time I thought it. I knew why I insisted on thinking it, though. Because I knew I couldn't stay here much longer. I had a job to get back to. A life to get back to.
Though, with each passing day at the clubhouse, I was starting to see my old life as less of a life. All it involved was chasing the next job, then planning, and executing that job. Then moving on.
It wasn't a life at all.
It was work.
I likely never would have realized that had I not needed to stop and beg help from Che and the rest of his brothers, their women, and their friends.
But just because, through them, I was starting to see things I would like to have in my life, didn't mean they were who I was going to have in my future.
I couldn't stay.
I wasn't part of their club.
I had a job that I wasn't ready to give up yet.