Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Get on with it then,” I tell him calmly.
Words spew from his lips like a cloud of CO2. I’ve uncorked him, and there’s no stopping it now.
“Duke has a mistress he keeps in the apartment next door. His wife has no fucking clue. And Quinn’s got a gambling problem. He’s up to his eyeballs in debt and his clients have no idea that their money is fucking gone. They meet up once a month and have ragers on the cape. Fuck as many prostitutes as they can and get fucked up on high end pills and booze.”
This is not news to me. It’s predictable at best, stale at worst.
“What else?” I demand.
Teddy is quiet until I take another step towards him.
“Ethan,” he mumbles through his bloody lips. “He got jacked up on coke one night and started talking about some missing girl.”
The room is still and silent and now Teddy is finally getting somewhere. Now, he’s got my full attention.
“What about her?”
“He kept saying she was dead.” Teddy shakes his head like he doesn’t believe it. And I almost feel sorry that he was born so ignorant. “Something about the woods. How Alexander fucked her up.”
Bingo.
Teddy doesn’t see me smile when he mentions Alexander, and I’m glad.
“Tell me everything he said,” I insist.
He’s going to. I can see it in his eyes. His mouth is open, and the words are poised to roll off his tongue.
But then the door bursts open.
And my hard work disappears into a void of quicksand.
“What the ever-loving fuck?”
The words are accented. Unmistakably Irish. Before I even shift my gaze to collide with the bastard in the door frame, I know who has come to collect.
The Irish mafia.
I was supposed to leave town for a while. That’s what I told Mack I would do.
Like attracts like, and it’s no exception for my only friend. She’s as batshit crazy as I am. And since she went poking around in the mafia’s business, she’s landed both of us in some hot water.
It’s nothing I can’t handle. Or her for that matter. And I really did have the best intentions of following through on my promise to her. After I took care of this business first.
But now, here I sit, beatus interruptus.
I haven’t met this asshole before. But he’s eyeing me like I’m a little fucking insane. Between the brass knuckles and my blood-spattered dress, he’d be right to assume that. No doubt.
So I hope he’s thinking carefully before he comes at me. Because I won’t go down without a fight. And I want to rip his fucking balls off for interrupting Teddy’s confessional.
“What in the bleeding hell are ye doing to that poor lad?” he asks me.
“Nothing less than what he deserves,” I answer.
The guy blinks and gives me an almost sympathetic expression, which only pisses me off more.
“We haven’t met,” he tells me. “I’m Rory.”
“And?”
His mouth twitches, and he seems to be amused by my behavior for whatever reason.
“And it’s a pleasure to meet me, aye? That’s what the ladies usually say. Now, sweetheart, I need ye to come with me. Just for a wee bit.”
And I need you to fuck off. Just for a wee bit.
“This is about Mack, isn’t it?”
Suspicion takes over his eyes as I move towards him innocently.
“Do you think because I’m a hooker, I just do whatever men tell me?”
His eyes dart to the man groaning behind me before he answers.
“I’m guessing probably no,” he says.
His eyes are still laughing, but there’s nothing humorous about this. I don’t like being cornered, and no amount of pleasantries are going to get me out of this room with him.
I ply the brass knuckles from my hand and hesitate for a moment before handing them off to him. Concern fills my eyes and my voice, but it’s all false.
“Is Mack okay?”
He nods, thinking he understands me. Thinking I’ll do whatever he says now to protect Mack. The thing is though… Mack takes care of herself.
And so do I.
When Rory pockets the brass, I yank the knife on my thigh from its sheath. I have the element of surprise on my side, so I don’t expect much from him. But he surprises me too.
Because he’s quick. Quicker than most. When I lunge at him, Rory goes on the defensive and raises his arm, which is precisely where my knife ends up. Lodged into his bicep.
“Jesus fecking Christ, woman.”
When I try to dart around him, he grabs me by the hair and slams me chest first against the wall, closing me in with his body.
My lungs are collapsing in on themselves. Heartbeat thrashing in my ears. The rewind function is alive and well in my head, and I’ve seen this movie before. I’m struggling against him. Fighting with everything I’ve got. I stomp on his foot with my stiletto and rear my head back to hit his nose.