Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Because it would be pure Indy.
Lee settled deeper into his woman.
And he fell asleep.
Track 2
Rock Chick Rescue
Show Her
* * *
Eddie
* * *
Eddie let himself into the kitchen through the back door.
He did not smell what he normally smelled; some of Jet’s amazing cooking.
He immediately smelled paint.
“Mi amor?” he called.
Nothing.
He moved farther into the house. “Jet?”
Still nothing.
She wasn’t in the living room, so he headed to the hall.
And he stopped dead at the door to the bathroom.
It was painted.
Purple.
It was a deep, dark purple. If there was a shade of purple that was a modicum of masculine, this was it.
It was still purple.
“Jet!” he shouted, thinking maybe she was downstairs doing the laundry and having a few things to say about a purple bathroom.
That day, she’d taken off from Fortnum’s. Her plans were to get her hair done and run some errands.
There had been no mention of painting the bathroom, and absolutely no mention of painting it purple.
But she wasn’t at home.
Her car was in the garage. He’d just parked next to that piece of shit.
It had only been a couple of months since he’d dropped a load on getting it running.
It was still a piece of shit.
His woman needed a new car.
Bad.
When he received no answer, a frisson he didn’t like slithered through his frame, and he pulled out his phone.
Since it’d happened, he’d tried, but he couldn’t get that last scene with Jet and Vince Fratelli out of his head.
On one hand, he’d trust his life to Lee. He knew, logically, that his hermano had the situation under control.
On the other hand, it had happened to Jet, and with her, his logic flew out the window.
Not to mention, when her ordeal was over, he’d come home to a house that was sparkling clean, and her shit was gone.
He’d sorted that right fucking quick, but the Rock Chicks had a way of finding trouble.
It had been weeks, the shit with Hank and Roxie had come and gone, Roxie was in Chicago preparing to move back, all seemed calm.
But Eddie still didn’t like the fact he was home, Jet’s car was in the garage, and she wasn’t answering his call.
Jet’s shit had been worse than Indy’s.
Roxie’s had been worse than Jet’s.
If this kept going, he didn’t know how he was going to handle it.
One way he knew would help was if all the shit stopped happening to Jet.
But she was supposed to be home, and she was not.
And he didn’t like that.
Before he could call her again, his phone rang, and the screen said, Jet Calling.
He took the call by saying, “Where the fuck are you?”
“Eddie?”
Oh fuck.
He knew what the sound of that “Eddie” meant.
“Where are you?” he demanded.
“Lavonne and Bear’s.”
This seemed innocuous, but since her father was staying at Lavonne and Bear’s, he knew it was not.
“And, um, Indy’s here with me,” she went on hesitantly.
Indy. Wildcard, with an emphasis on wild.
“Give it all to me, chiquita,” he ordered.
“And mom and Lottie. And, um…Tex.”
He turned on his boot and retraced his steps to the door, asking, “Do I need grenades?”
“Probably not…” More hesitation, then, “but maybe a call to Lee wouldn’t be remiss.”
Fuck.
When he got to the house, a house he’d only been to once and he’d never been inside, he walked in without knocking.
He was momentarily stunned at what he saw.
The yard was a disaster. It looked like Chernobyl twenty years post-meltdown.
But the inside was neat as a pin, countrified so much it made him appreciate his new purple bathroom, and choked in hearts.
Eddie only allowed this to momentarily take his attention, because what he took in next, he didn’t get.
First, Jet seemed fine. She was standing next to her dad, and both looked fit. No one was bleeding, and he might miss it from the stale (and fresh) cigarette odor that clogged the air, but he couldn’t smell any expended gunpowder.
Indy was sitting next to Tex on a couch. They were eating from a bucket of chicken wings. Tex had hot sauce all over his mustache and beard. Indy did not.
Lottie was in an armchair. She was doing her nails.
What seemed to be the problem was Bear appeared to be facing off against Lavonne…and Nancy.
Nancy looking pissed was probably why Tex was there. Or Nancy being there at all was why Tex was.
But Nancy wasn’t prone to getting pissed, and when it happened, it was usually on someone else’s behalf.
Even if there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger, Eddie didn’t let his guard down. Bear was probably in his mid to late fifties. If he’d ever attempted to stay in shape, that was a thing of the past, that past being decades ago. Nevertheless, the man was enormous, and bulk could be dangerous if the person who had it knew how to use it.
Eddie had already clocked the guy as knowing how to use it.