Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Her finger scrolled for a couple seconds before she was dropping the phone, grabbing for a pair of pants, pulling them on, then grabbing for her jacket.
"What are you doing?" I asked, fearful I already knew the answer.
"I have to go."
"No."
"Vance, I'm going," she said, giving me eye-contact for a long moment before slamming her feet into her boots.
"You just fucking got back and you are going to leave without seeing anyone?"
"I'm coming back."
"When?"
"I don't know. A day. Two days tops."
"Ferryn..."
"I'm coming back," she insisted, voice harder as she moved toward me.
I didn't want to know why she was taking her knife. I had a feeling I wouldn't like the answer if I asked.
"Wait," I demanded when she went to rush past me, reaching out to grab her arm before thinking better of it and holding my hand up. "Let me give you my number," I told her, watching as her brows furrowed as though the words didn't make sense. "Text me when you're on your way back," I added.
"Oh. Ah. Okay," she said, pulling out her phone, jabbing the numbers in. "I have to go," she added when she was done, making her way to the door.
"Ace."
"Yeah?"
"I don't know what you're up to, but be careful."
"No promises," she told me with a solemn shrug.
With that and nothing more, she was gone, the door slamming behind her.
I couldn't focus the rest of the day.
Figuring that Cash and some of the other guys would call me if they needed me, I spent my time working on the apartment. Getting the hot water going took longer than I anticipated. In checking to see if it was working, I noticed the tub needed re-grouting. And the whole place in general was in desperate need of a scrubbing.
Living on the road being a musician had been a filth-filled adventure. Prospecting The Henchmen had left me in charge of all the dirty work. It was something that made me not only aware of filth when I came across it, but much more likely to grab a vacuum or mop and handle it than I once had been.
By the time the sun had gone down, the apartment was immaculate, and I was kicking myself for giving her my number when I should have gotten hers instead. At least that would have left me with a little bit of control over the situation. Or a way to ensure I could get in touch with her to make sure she was on her way back.
"Should I ask what—or who—you were doing all day?" West asked when I walked back into the clubhouse.
"I was fixing a hot water heater," I told him, rolling my eyes. And, oddly, choosing not to tell him about Ferryn skipping town once again. Considering he was my only confidant in this situation, you'd think I would want to keep him up to date on everything, offload some of the stress onto his shoulders. "Do you know a guy named Finch?" I added, trying to remember if I had heard anything about him before.
"Finch? First or last?"
"Didn't say. Just introduced himself as Finch. Southern accent. Tennessee, maybe?" I guessed. Having done a fair amount of touring, I had gotten pretty good at telling accents apart.
"Not ringing a bell. Why?"
"He's my new neighbor at the apartment. Just don't peg him as someone in Navesink Bank for no reason. Was wondering if he had ever popped by trying to prospect or something."
"Not that I've heard. But we're not the only game in town."
Well, that was for damn sure.
Bikers, and loansharks, and the mob, oh my! really should have been the town slogan. And that didn't even mention the PIs, the fixers, the gangs, or the for-hire enforcer types. If he was looking for a job, he would likely find it.
"Do you think he's going to be a problem for us?"
"I don't think so. But it is something to maybe put on Cash's radar if you see him before I do. Have Lo check him out just to see what he might be up to. Everything's been relatively quiet around here for a while. It would be nice to know if there were about to be waves in the water."
"Are you asking because you genuinely want to check him out, or because your girl is moon-eyeing him?"
"She's not my girl. And I don't think Ferryn is capable of anything even resembling moon-eyeing anyone."
At least, not anymore.
There had been moon-eyes once upon a time.
Watching me from the passenger side of my car.
Watching me from the front row when I was on stage.
Watching me as I climbed out of my parents' pool.
Watching me as she made me listen to her new favorite songs.
She'd once been the queen of moon-eyes.
Now, though, now I wasn't sure there was enough of that girl left in her to allow that kind of open vulnerability, that rare honesty of emotion.