Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
If no one knows we’re here, would it be okay to go to an urgent care? If we go straight there and back, then we’ve got a shot of doing this undetected. Looking at Marco’s arm and seeing how much pain he’s in, I’ve got no choice. I have to.
I leave a note for Luke along with my cell phone number before I hurry us outside and wave down a taxi. Thankfully there’s an urgent care close, and the taxi gets us there quickly.
“Come on.” I help Marco out of the car, then stop short when I turn around and run into a small woman.
“Oopsie-daisy,” she sing-songs, giving me a bright smile with two dimples popping out.
“I’m so sorry.” She’s lucky I didn’t knock her on her ass.
“No worries.” She steps aside so that Marco and I can get by on the sidewalk to enter into the urgent care.
There’s hardly anyone in the lobby, so we don’t have to wait long before they take us back and he gets an x-ray. When it’s finished they tell us it’s only a sprain, but they wrap it up to keep it straight.
“Does this get me out of homework?” Marco jokes.
“Maybe,” I respond absently, trying to find my plastic bag of money inside of my purse so I can pay the bill. I’m not sure I want to know how much this is going to cost. “Shit.”
“What?” Marco asks.
Before I can respond, the door to the exam room opens, and I look up thinking it’s going to be the nurse. To my horror it’s two of my father's men, Stoker and Grant. My heart sinks. The blood drains from Marco’s face, and he looks ashen.
“Keep quiet,” Stoker orders and nods to the door. “Let’s go.”
Knowing we have no choice, we do as we’re told. Grant points us to the back of the clinic, and when we get to the exit, he pushes it open to the back alley.
We’re barely across the threshold when Grant lets out a loud grunt before almost falling on top of me. My instinct is to protect Marco, so I grab his shirt and pull him out of the way. Grant hits the ground hard while Stoker pulls his gun out and trains it on the woman standing next to the door. It was the woman I almost ran into when getting out of the cab. She holds her hands up, and I notice her bright pink nails are a stark contrast to the metal pipe in her hand. She lets the pipe fall from her hand, and Grant groans.
“What the fuck?”
“I thought it would knock him out,” she huffs with a pout.
“Get up, we don't have time for this,” Stoker tells Grant, who groggily gets to his feet. Blood is dripping from his eyebrow as he takes a few wobbly steps and tries to grab the woman who hit him.
She doesn’t get away from him quick enough and Grant manages to grab her long braid. He yanks her back, and her oversized tote that might weigh more than she does falls to the ground. My plastic bag of money slips out of it, and I think back to running into her. Did she steal it from me? It all happened so fast, but she could have easily reached in and grabbed it when I was busy apologizing.
“You little bitch.” Grant holds her closer, and she lets out a whimper. “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Later,” Stoker barks. “Everyone in the fucking car. The boss is waiting.”
Marco and I get in, and Grant shoves the woman in with us.
“You stole my money,” I say to her under my breath as she rebraids her hair.
Her eyes widen, and it reminds me of a doe in headlights. Her expression is innocent, and if I hadn’t seen the bag myself, I might think she was.
Who the hell is she?
Chapter Fourteen
LUKE
“You think bringing me to a restaurant full of people will stop me from killing you?” Vince looks at me with his cold eyes as I sit across from him. He’s got Jackson seated on his right, and Maxim is sitting directly across from him.
Looking to the back of the room, I see a few more of his men stationed next to the exit, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a couple more out front now that we’ve walked inside.
“I don’t think it will stop you,” I say evenly. “But I think it would be quite a mess to clean up.” I nod over to the building across the street. “Especially since it’s Tuesday.”
As we sit here, the courthouse on the other side of the street opens up, and there are people forming a line. It’s the busiest day of the week because Tuesdays are when people come to pay their parking tickets. As much as Vince Sledge thinks he owns this city, there are way too many eyes for him to make a move. He has dirty cops and junkies in his back pocket. He’s got guns for hire on his side. What he doesn’t have are hundreds of average people who got parking tickets all over the city. These aren’t people from his neighborhood, and I watch as the realization dawns on him.