Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Eager to dress, I quickly shower, dress, and apply said makeup. Once my hair is dried and flat ironed, I’m feeling fresh and more like myself. There’s a small purse in the stack of items, just the right size for a gun, which I don’t believe to be an accident. I walk into the bedroom, check the ammunition in the Ruger, and then load it in my new purse. I exit the bedroom and find the men still in the same spots, still debating whatever they’re debating, but now, they all have coffee cups. I decide not to bother them. I have a mission anyway. I walk to the shooting range.
Once there, I open the door and enter. I do a scan, put on a pair of safety glasses, grab a stock of ammunition, and head into an actual safety booth that Savage has here in the apartment. Once I’m there, sealed inside, I do what I know I can do. I unload my gun, and I do it with accuracy and skill. I do so because Aaron made me practice. I do so because I wanted to practice. I do so because the gun feels right in my hand. I reload, and I repeat. I reload, and I repeat until I feel, rather than hear, someone behind me. It’s not Aaron. I know this, too. I pull off my safety glasses and turn to find Smith standing outside the booth. He’s a good-looking man, tall, well-built, sandy brown hair, defined cheekbones, easy on the eyes in all ways. I’d thought, at one point, he might be for me. Or I’d wanted to believe that, but I’d never really believed that at all.
I exit the booth and join him on the other side. “You’re good,” he says. “He taught you?”
“Yes. He taught me. I told you that.”
“And you want to live a life where you need those skills?”
“If I were with you, Smith, would you want me to know how to protect myself?”
His lips thin. “Yes.”
“Could your job put me in danger?”
“Yes, but—”
“There is no but. Please. Accept him. And honestly, Aaron needs friends. He has none. He was betrayed by the only people he trusted. He gave up his life to take down a kingpin. Who does that? That’s how he got here. That’s how he became this.”
“You really believe in him?”
“I do, and I’m a good judge of character. I chose you as a friend, remember?”
The door opens behind him, and Aaron walks in. Smith’s expression tightens, and I know he knows it’s him. He inhales and gives me a tiny nod before he turns to face Aaron. And then to my surprise, he offers him his hand. “Truce.”
Aaron looks at me and then him. “She’s not—”
“She’s my friend,” Smith says. “And perhaps you can be, too. Truce,” he repeats.
Aaron studies him, hard and long, and then offers Smith his hand. “Truce,” he says. “But if you—”
“Forget my place, you’ll beat my ass,” Smith says. “Got it. And if you hurt her—”
“You’ll shoot me. Got it.”
And then to my surprise, we all laugh. It feels like a sign. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to get to the other side of this war to peace. I’m not, however, unrealistic. Someone, probably a lot of someone’s, will have to die before that happens.
Chapter forty-one
Ashley
Laughter fades between the three of us, and we’re all standing there in the shooting range, a million pieces of a broken past between us. A million pieces of what could be my future if we don’t end this war between Mick and Aaron. I see this in Smith’s eyes when they meet mine, but there is also acceptance. With that acceptance is peace. Something shifted while I slept, perhaps while we talked a few minutes ago. He’s not going to fight me. He’s not going to call Aaron the enemy any longer.
He gives me a nod and then shares a look with Aaron that, for me, is unreadable, but Aaron’s returned nod tells me that’s not the case for him. The minute the door shuts, Aaron steps to me and glances down at my hands, where I still hold my gun. “You going to shoot me with that?”
“Should I?” I tease. “Because you and Smith clearly just had something going on that I don’t understand.” I’ve barely said the words, and my gun is taken from me, disappearing I don’t know where, while his hand slides under my hair to my neck. I’m pulled snug against his hard body, his voice and eyes just as hard. There’s a reprimand in what he’s just done that I don’t understand.
“Do you want to live this life, Ashley?” he demands. “You want to be with me, really be with me?”
The charge in the air is electric, the challenge evident, even if I don’t understand where it comes from right here and now, what set him off. “You know I do.”