Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
"She cooks though, right?" he asked, giving me a knowing smile.
"She does do that," I agreed, my stomach mad at me for having to miss a dinner. We didn't go every weekend, but she tried to get us all around a table at least one Sunday a month. The food was worth the nagging. "After all this is done, I'll see about it. I gotta go, though. Get this over with."
"I'll keep an eye on my phone in case you need me."
"I appreciate it," I told him, clamping a hand on his shoulder before moving out into the hall, snatching the keys out of the air when Reign threw them at me, then threw my shit into the SUV, knowing it was going to be my home for all intents and purposes until I got this shit squared away.
It had been a while since I had been to the city.
And I hadn't ever been in the depths of winter right before the holidays when everything was lit up, making the place I thought of as noisy and dirty look almost magical.
Which was lucky since I had nothing to do but sit and look at it - and the streets of the neighborhood - day in and day out.
It wasn't until the third day that I found them.
The trio of them coming and going together, always together, carrying themselves in an unmistakable way - sure, confident, aware. The way criminals carried themselves.
Besides, there was one man - tall, dark, and two women, one light-brown haired, the other long black-haired. With an ass I recognized.
Liv.
I staked out their apartment building, pretending like I wasn't miserable, aching for my own bed, a shower that wasn't in a gym, food that didn't come from a convenience store.
Because I couldn't pop into their place - what seemed to be a whole-floor loft - when all three were at home. I didn't know their skills, didn't know what they were capable of. So I couldn't blindly walk in there.
So I waited.
And waited.
Every morning, the man - whose name Jstorm and Alex had never been able to figure out - went out, coming back with a brown bag of - likely- bagels, and a long, low box of what were probably donuts, then a cardboard carrier with coffees on top.
Every afternoon, the younger girl took off to a dojo around the corner.
Liv was the one who stayed in the most, usually only heading out with one or both of her friends.
They didn't have curtains on their windows, the buildings across from them lower than theirs, so there was no worry about anyone looking in.
But I could catch slight upward glances of her looking out at the windows with a mug in her hands.
But that was it.
It was on the fourth day that luck struck.
The guy went out for the usual.
But then the chick headed out in a rush, disappearing down the stairs to the subway.
Which left Liv alone in the loft.
I didn't give it enough time for the guy to come back.
I cut the engine, threw on my jacket, tucked a gun just in case of the worst possible situation, and made my way toward the building, sneaking in after some girl and her Basset Hound all bundled up in a sweater and booties that made him lift his feet higher than necessary with each step.
All I could think the whole ride up was that all this was finally almost over.
I could stop feeling guilty, worried about what might befall me if I cost the club money and reputation. I hadn't been there in the older days, back when there were more men, back when fuck-ups and punishments happened. I had no clue how Reign handled that kind of thing. And I was pretty damn sure I was happy to keep it that way.
The elevator opened up to a top floor with two doors - one that seemed to be to a small room Storage space maybe? The other took up almost the entire top level.
Bingo.
Taking a deep breath, I made my way to the door, hitting the bell before I could think of any better plan.
"Astrid, how do you always forget your..."
The door flew open.
And there she was.
In goddamn Santa shorts and a tight black wifebeater.
There was that saying about people.
Easy on the eyes.
She was that.
But she was also a kick to the gut.
That was the kind of beautiful she was.
The sort that knocked out your fucking air.
Lou hadn't really elaborated beyond the hair and eye color thing.
She had sharp features, wider in the forehead, tapering off at the chin. Inverted triangle or heart, something like that. I remember my sisters obsessing over that shit. Hairstyles for face shapes. What would hide your forehead or elongate your face. Some of it, apparently, stuck somehow, despite me trying to block that out.