Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Or Vega.
Because, quite frankly, if I were to put my money on a cop or Vega, I might pick my cousin.
“We got a problem.”
“We?” I asked.
“Yep. We. Used to be a problem with me and Rayna, but now…” he said, waving a hand out, letting the sentence hang, letting me fill in the blanks.
But now Rayna was in intensive care.
Because of him?
Had he put her there?
It certainly seemed possible.
Everything about the man screamed danger.
“I have no idea what kind of business you were doing with Rayna. I just… I just work here.”
“Yeah. And I was hoping to just keep it that way,” he said, nodding. “But shit has changed. Now, you’ve seen my men. And now you are involved.”
His men.
The strange men that made me so uncomfortable.
The ones who left a single bullet in the prep room.
Suddenly, that felt like ages ago.
But it wasn’t.
And maybe it had just gotten back to this man that I had seen his men, that I, I don’t know, thought they were up to something.
“Your men? The ones who unpack the flowers?” I asked, letting my tone be a little softer, more innocent, almost naive.
“Oh, come on now, Meredith,” he said with a cold smirk, making a shiver move up my spine. “You’re not that dumb,” he said. “No one thinks it takes half a dozen guys to unpack some flowers. Men you didn’t even know existed.”
“I have no idea what happens on shipment days,” I insisted. “I’ve never worked them before.”
“Well, it’s too bad you started,” he said, shrugging. “Now you’re involved. Whether you like it or not.”
“Involved with what?” I asked, shaking my head. “Flower imports?”
“Don’t be dumb, Meredith,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. “You know it’s more than flowers coming in this shop.”
I didn’t.
Not until that very moment.
"What else is coming in?”
“That’s my business. And you know whose business it isn’t?”
“Mine?” I asked.
“Not who I meant, but in fact, it ain’t your fucking business either.”
“Who then?” I asked. “Dennis?”
“Fucking Costa.”
Cesare?
He knew who Cesare was?
I mean, if he was using the flower shop as some sort of import business, I guess he would have to learn about the people involved in said business. Dennis. Rayna. Me. And Cesare.
“I… okay. I won’t say anything. I don’t even have anything to say,” I added.
“Nah, see, that ain’t good enough,” he said, pushing away from the table, and making his way toward me. “I gotta give you some motivation to keep that pretty mouth shut,” he said, reaching in his pocket.
For a split second, I worried it was a gun.
Or a knife.
But it was just his phone.
He swiped a finger over the screen a few times then turned it to face me.
And there it was.
A picture of Vega.
“This your girl, right?” he asked, smirking in a way that would make the devil himself envious.
“That’s my… roommate,” I said, wanting to protect part of her identity.
“Nah. That’s your cousin,” he corrected, giving me a look that said I better stop lying to him. “She’s pretty. Kinda badass lawyer lady too. Be a real shame if someone had to snatch her off the street, drag her somewhere dark and cold, and spend hours having all sorts of fun with her. Maybe while you watch. Before the same happens to you,” he said, making my blood turn cold in my veins.
“No…” I whispered as my mind flashed with horrific visions, ones I knew were going to plague me for days, weeks, months, years, an entire lifetime, ones that came to me in bright, vivid detail. The sounds, the sighs, the screams.
No.
I had to stop.
I had to focus.
Just then, though, there was the chime on the door, making me jolt and my potential attacker to glance past me, then pull me back so I was out of sight.
“Get rid of him,” he hissed, voice low, his head dipped so that our foreheads almost touched. “You say one word,” he said, flashing his phone at me again, where Vega’s picture was still on the screen. “You got me?”
“Yes,” I said, voice choked.
“Get rid of him.”
Him could have been anyone.
The shop was full of male customers all the time.
But, somehow, I knew.
Not just because of the strange man’s reaction, but the way my skin felt like it sizzled, like something about Cesare charged the air.
Then there he was.
Looking good.
And still, it seemed, interested.
I felt like my heart was a popped balloon in my chest as I rushed forward, as I pushed him toward the door.
Because whatever I had been hoping might transpire between myself and Cesare no longer could. It was too risky. For all I knew, the men could be watching me, reporting my moves back to the man in the back room.
Had they known that Cesare had saved me from the side of the road?
That he had stayed at my apartment?