Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Twisting, he kissed the palm of my hand. “You said yesterday you wanted to see River.”
“Yeah. I tried calling but he didn’t answer.”
“He’s still with my people, helping those women. A lot don’t have families to go back to, and we can do better than leaving them in a women’s shelter and walking off.”
Bringing him to me, I kissed him slow and deep, tasting the vanilla on his tongue. “Mmhhm. I’m definitely in love with you.”
“Better be,” he teased. “I’ve been secretly planning our wedding since we met.”
“Not so secret.” I pecked his nose. “Tell me where River is. I’ll get dressed and go help as soon as I’m done.”
“You okay to leave Laurel? You’ve been keeping her pretty close.”
“I’m not leaving her,” I said too loud. “She’s coming with me.”
“Okay, no problem.” He was as calm as I should be. “You don’t want guards, so I’ll come with. Ryker should already be there too.”
“You don’t mind being in the same room as River? I was getting the vibe off you guys that you were mortal enemies.”
“Mortal enemies?” Sunny rested his head on my lap. “Such a title goes to men like Luca Adams, and as you’ve seen, they don’t live long once they make it to that list. River and I aren’t enemies or friends. Now we’ll never be enemies because he helped me save you.”
I smiled, running my hands through his hair. “Will you tell me now what happened between you two?”
“You should ask Delaney.”
“Ugh, Sunny, come on.”
“It’s not like that,” he said. “I’m telling you to ask him because it’s his story to tell. I’ve got some goodwill for the guy at the moment. Least I can do is let him explain things to you himself.”
I settled back on the pillows. “Okay, that’s fair. But you should know all this mystery is piquing my curiosity. I’m building up the story more and more every day. At this point we’ve reached a tale worthy of Shakespeare.”
His smile tinged enigmatic. “Shakespeare couldn’t write this story.”
LIAM
I leaned back in my chair, scanning the security screens. The benefits of operating the majority of my business through nightclubs was also its disadvantage. Too much noise, movement, and bodies to overhear a sensitive conversation, pick out a particular shipment among the crates of beer bottles, or separate who worked for me amid the regulars looking to get laid.
All of that also made it near to impossible to scope out on my three months of security footage who could be working with the Brotherhood.
They’ve been following and watching us—that wasn’t in question. The natural assumption was at some point, their men have entered my clubs, getting a sense of my resources, backup, and exits.
I leaned in, squinting at a green flash on the screen. Three weeks’ worth of footage, and so far, I’ve spotted the man in the green coat four times. It said enough about my progress that one ill-dressed guy slumped on the bar was the closest I had to a suspect.
A knock sounded at the door. “Boss.”
“Come,” I called.
Blake walked in, leading two of my men behind him. I wasn’t one for the right hands, beers with my crew, an inner circle of my bestest friends like Sole was. My men were hired for their skill, efficiency, and ability to do what they were told without question. The day they failed in one or more of those areas, they were removed and replaced.
Blake Dagon handled a majority of tasks for me and stepped in to run the business when I was otherwise indisposed—almost always for Elizabeth-related reasons. For this reason, he was termed my lieutenant. Otherwise there was no hierarchy or stations to move up within my organization.
Why pretend as though one man was higher up than another, or that man had some kind of power with the promotion? The only power was mine.
Blake, Henry, and Roman lined up before my desk. All three of similar heights, but that’s where their similarities ended. Blake had a full head of thick, coarse hair and a multitude of tattoos detailing his time in the service.
Henry was shaved on top, but growing a thick, full black beard. He opted to show no affiliation of any kind. He refused to wear name brands because the worst thing you could do is announce your favorites to the world. All an assassin has to do is lie in wait outside your local Ralph Lauren. A tad paranoid but that’s the kind of man you have oversee security.
Then there was Roman. Pale-green eyes, thin lips, streaks of red in his brown hair to match the red oxfords on his feet. He had many tattoos but their meaning was only understood by him. A bunny pulling itself out of a hat, a cartoon ray gun, and a line of characters going down his arm that did not translate into any language.