Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I nodded, resolving to have a word with Anthony besides just seeing if he’d hire her. “I’ll text him right now.”
She sat up, her face brightening. “Really?”
“Tip money helps with rent.”
She shuddered, nodding. “You don’t have to say that again. Sorry to put you in this spot. I’m a bit desperate.”
I shook my head. “No spot that you’re putting me in. If I can help, I’m helping.” I sent off my text right after that.
Jess: You still looking for any extra girls to carry around the shot trays?
Anthony: Please tell me you know someone, and yes. Immediately. Tonight.
Jess: Pay?
Anthony: You know what they get paid. Tips are theirs, but it’s the standard rate.
Jess: She’s my roommate.
He didn’t respond.
That would complicate things.
Anthony: I’ll hire her, but you have to promise not to go batshit on a customer if the guys don’t move fast enough for you.
I grinned.
Jess: I won’t unless they’re taking their sweet ass time.
Anthony: Fuck. Fine. She’s a little thing, isn’t she?
Jess: Yes.
Anthony: She can start today. 4:30 my office.
I lifted my gaze. “You got a job.”
She squealed, coming around to throw her arms around my shoulders. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I could just kiss you.” She smacked her lips to my cheek and gave me another hug/shake before returning to her seat. Her cheeks were all flushed. “When do I start?”
I checked the time. “You got three hours.”
“What?!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TRACE
My father could barely breathe.
I was staring at Dominic West in a hospital bed. He’d been tubed, and he was unconscious. They’d had to put him in a medically induced coma because they were worried about possible brain trauma.
Ashton cursed next to me. “Jesus. Your uncle doesn’t mess around.”
I grunted. “No shit.”
It’d been a couple days since seeing him at the hotel, since Ashton and I had taken the girls and given them a whole different option in life. But there’d been radio silence from my uncle. I was now seeing why.
I got the call from the hospital an hour ago.
My dad’s body had been dumped in front of the ER. They’d said the security cameras weren’t working, so they didn’t know who dumped him off, which was a lie. My family owned the security guards at the hospital—it’s why they’d chosen this hospital—and half the staff was aware of who we were.
It’s why no police were called in for this assault, and no police would ever be called on any of our family members.
“Mr. West.”
I looked over, seeing the head nurse coming my way. A younger nurse was next to her, a file in her hand and sexual interest in her eyes. The head nurse, Sloane, plucked the file from the younger nurse and gave her a sharp look. The younger one glared, but after a momentary stare-off, she lowered her head and turned away. Sloane started our way, but the younger nurse stopped and looked at us. She was first giving me a very open and sexual expression, but at seeing how not interested I was, she switched to Ashton, who snorted under his breath as she did.
We shared a look, both of us amused, before Sloane got to us.
“Gentlemen.” She didn’t balk at seeing Ashton by my side. I was aware that other hospitals liked to give information out only to direct family members, but Sloane had been around. She knew how it was between Ashton and me.
She fixed me a stern look, coming to stand on the other side of my father’s bed.
Ashton went to close the door.
A steady beeping sound filled the room, along with the intubation machinery.
She nodded at my father. “You do not seem angry or surprised at finding your father in this manner.”
I ignored that, barely blinking. “What’s the damage?”
She glanced at me, her eyes flickering before she went back to the file. “You know about the possible brain damage. He took several hits to the back of his skull. The coma will be lifted in a day, but he has three fractured ribs. A broken wrist. His ankle looked smashed to pieces, so they did surgery to put as much of that back together as they could. His skin endured second-degree burns. The doctor did recommend plastic surgery, but the burns aren’t extensive over a large section of skin. Ultimately it’s either your father’s choice or whoever is going to be paying his bills. Is that you?”
I pressed my mouth tight together. “Who’s the doctor?” I held my hand out for the file.
She gave it to me. “You guys lucked out with a brand-new doc who is very curious about why no one on staff called the police.”
I had started to open the file but lifted my gaze to her. “He’s new and ambitious?”
“She’s new and not a dummy.”
She. New. Smart. That wasn’t a good combination for us.
I shared a look with Ashton, who asked, “Her name?”