Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Right,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “We still don’t know shit about who blew that place up, but we know who those sons of bitches were after. Cesare, Matteo, and me.”
“What did you just say?” I squinted up at him, fear creeping into my tone.
“You heard me, Piper,” he went on, his tone steady. “The minute they walked in there, they set their sights on our table. It’s crazy, but that blast saved our asses. They were about ten feet from our spot, and they had rifles. They were showering us with bullets. Our guns just couldn’t protect us.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead and breathed in and out, at a clear loss for words. I had been expecting him to narrate a normal fistfight.
To hear that someone had insulted him, and his ego couldn’t take it.
Not a shootout.
Not a life-and-death situation.
“Why…?” I whispered out, my gaze still on the space between his shoes and mine.
“Money.”
His answer was blunt. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush, unlike Matteo.
“It’s always about cash, Piper. We stole theirs and they got pissed.”
“You lost me,” I confessed, taking my hand off of my face. “You mentioned a gunfight. Why would the same people try and blow up the very bar they were in?”
“They didn’t. No way,” he said, shaking his head sideways. “If you ask me, someone else tried to whack the guys that had come to take care of us, but that’s just a theory. Anyway...” He paused, his stare intensifying further. “I’ve got another theory, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to hate my guts for saying this, but I’ll do it anyway. Those people are out to get Cesare, Matteo, and me, and everybody who’s been helping us.”
“Oh, god,” I whispered, putting my hands together over my mouth. “Me, too?”
“Yeah,” he spoke in a firm tone. “I told you you wouldn’t like this.”
“Why?!” I squeaked, tears rising up in my eyes. “I mean, I had nothing to do with that money you stole.”
“That’s true, but you were working the night I got shot,” he argued. “You kept your mouth shut about the whole thing. You’re also Felix’s sister. The mob’s methods are very old, Piper. When they take out someone, they take out their entire family, too.”
“Mob,” I huffed out that word, shivers of fear running down my spine. “Jesus…”
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice coming out mellower. “I for one didn’t mean for you to get tangled in this mess.”
“Well, I did.” A bitter smile spread across my face. “I can’t believe this. I was just trying to do my job, and now you’re telling me that some mobsters are out to get me? This is unreal.”
“It’s as real as it gets,” he added, an expression of sorrow written all over his face.
“I need a drink,” I told him, shuffling off to my drink’s cabinet in the corner. Squeezing tears out of my eyes, I grabbed a full bottle of vodka and went to the fridge to get some ice. I filled up two glasses and offered him one, before seating myself on the couch. Without uttering another word, I gulped down the vodka, until the rocks nudged both of my lips. I heard them clicking together, Leo’s last words still echoing in my brain.
“It’s as real as it gets.”
“I should probably take off.”
His masculine voice snapped me out of a nasty thought process.
“Oh, no, Mr. Turner.” I stared at him with dead-serious eyes. “You’re not going anywhere. Not just yet.”
“If someone told me I’d been targeted by the mob, I’d need some time to myself,” he said, his voice steady. “That’s why I wanted to leave.”
“Are you sure about all this?” I asked, tension speeding up my tone. “Because it sounds like a stretch to me. I never harmed those people.”
“It ain’t a stretch. Not when it comes to the oldest mob families in New York,” he pointed out. “That’s how they’ve been handling things for decades. They’re not going to change now. Cesare and Matteo think I’m exaggerating, though.”
Holding the bottle over my glass, more of that beverage splashing onto the rocks, I had another question. “Why?”
“They just don’t want to believe this,” he replied. “They believe we’re the only ones in danger. I don’t think so. You should call that doctor Cesare threatened. The guy should hire bodyguards. At least, that’s what I’d do if I were in his shoes.”
“Are you even listening to yourself?” I asked, holding my glass just an inch from my chin. “You want me to call up a colleague of mine? Picture this, okay? ‘Dr. Baines, remember that huge guy who threatened you? He says you not calling the police could get you killed by the same people who shot his buddy.’ I bet that’s going to brighten his day, don’t you think?”