Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Instead, he’s got my fallopian tubes wrapped around his little finger, the prick.
I hate him for it. I hate that I need him.
Worse, I hate that I want him.
Fitz parks outside of Smoke. I hop out with Carson on my heels. Three other SUVs pull up the second my feet hit the pavement, making me jump in shock as more men pile out, all of them big bastards, all of them looking grim. I recognize a few from parties my father dragged me to when I was younger.
Crowley soldiers.
“Secure the place,” Carson says, gesturing at one of them, a square man in the middle.
“Wait,” I say, throwing my hands up. My instincts to protect my friends might be clouding my judgment here, but I can’t help myself. “Nobody goes inside.”
The men pause, looking at Carson, who tilts his head. “It’ll be hard to protect you if we can’t get near you.” His voice is a low, frustrated grumble.
“My staff is messed up enough already. They don’t need your goons swarming the place.” I glare at Carson, ignoring the audience, hands on my hips. “Nobody goes inside.”
I feel the attention of eight heavily armed gangsters, all of them looking from me to Carson. I wonder how many of them know who I am. Maybe they remember Iain’s mouthy little sister, or maybe they were close with my father or my uncles. Hard to say since it’s been so long.
Carson’s jaw twitches. “I don’t like that.”
“Too bad. Keep your guys out of my bar, you understand me? Or I’m going to call the cops, even though they’re worthless.”
“That would be the same as handing yourself over to the Poles.”
My eyebrows raise. “The Poles? As in Polish?”
He grunts, looking annoyed. He gestures at the square man again. “Brecken, lock the place down, but keep everyone outside.”
He nods. “Yes, sir.” Then he gestures as his men fan out, some of them standing near the front, some of them heading into the alley.
“Happy?” Carson looks at me unblinking with that intense scrutiny of his.
“No. Not even close.” I turn to walk inside. He follows. I have to stop at the door to physically push his chest for him to stop. “That order to stay out extends to you, mobster.”
Carson sneers. “Good luck keeping me away from you right now.”
An excited thrill bursts into my brain. Why do I find his obsessive stare so freaking hot?
“You’re a pigheaded asshole, you know that?”
“And you don’t know when to keep your pretty mouth shut. Do you want to get yourself killed?” He leans closer, lips near my ear. “Stop disrespecting me in front of my men.”
I flinch slightly, looking over at the thugs standing nearby. They look frankly astonished.
“That’s not my intention. I just want you to listen.”
“And I want to make sure nobody’s still in there and that call from your friend wasn’t a trap.” He cocks his head. “Did you even consider that possibility?”
No. I did not. Bastard.
“Fine,” I say, frustrated, and throw open the door.
If this was a trap, I’m not doing a good job avoiding it. I storm into the bar with Carson on my heels.
Fortunately, there’s nobody but my staff left inside. There’s glass on the floor from where bottles had been smashed. Chairs are flipped and at least one lays in sticks on the floor. A table’s flipped, another’s broken straight down the middle like someone took an axe through it. The whole place is a total wreck, like a pack of hungry dogs came stampeding through. My mouth hangs open in total shock.
Everyone’s gathered at the bar with drinks. Fulco’s got a big bandage on his forehead, and when I run over to make sure he’s okay, he waves me off. “I’m fine. Head wounds bleed too much.” He grunts, swatting me away.
“Shit, Ash,” Bernie says, throwing her arms around me and hugging tight. “You have no clue how terrifying that was.”
I can probably guess based on my time with my own personal gangster.
Fortunately, Carson remains at a distance, looking around warily at the booths.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I say, squeezing Bernie before hugging everyone else. “I’m so sorry, Jams, god, I’m so sorry, Keely.”
“Nobody blames you,” Jamila says quietly. Her eyes are red-rimmed. “Seriously, Ash.”
That only makes me feel worse.
“I blame myself.” I look around the bar once I’m sure everyone’s okay. “What happened? Tell me all the details.”
Keely gives me the rundown, gesturing wildly as she reenacts the story, including the part where Fulco came out and tried to forcibly remove one of the big assholes. I gape at the older man. He grins sheepishly.
“He was trespassing in my bar,” he says, shrugging. “I just did what any man would do.”
“Don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again, okay? Please, Fulco. Promise me.” I stare at him, heart racing. That could’ve gone so much worse. Fulco’s probably lucky he’s still alive.