Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“I do,” Julius responds in perfect calm. “She’s my wife.”
Braden stands slowly from his chair, hands raised in a placating gesture, his eyes on the gun Julius aims at his brother’s head.
When Shane runs into the open doorway, he looks down at the bloody heap that is Connor then back up at Julius, uttering a quietly stupefied, “Fuck me.”
Braden sighs wearily, “Fuck me, indeed.” He looks over at Shane and states, “Mam’s gonna be pissed.”
Aileen Kelly is the respected and treasured matriarch of the Kelly clan.
From the moment Redmond “The Butcher” Kelly, Aileen’s late husband, received his terminal diagnosis, he scathingly informed his sons that he would not be handing down the reins to any of them, for they were not ready to lead. Instead, Aileen stepped up and took over without a hitch. Not many women hold such power in these parts, but Aileen proved time and time again that she could out-maneuver even the slickest of firms and hold the upper hand for as long as she felt she needed.
She is a brutal but nurturing woman, especially when it comes to her sons.
I had met her only once, and that was at the trial of her son. She held me with her eyes boldly, daring me to take her Danny away from her. And as Daniel Kelly knelt down before me, almost eager to take his punishment, I pulled the trigger with my eyes on her. To show my respect to the Kelly family, I attended the funeral. Aileen didn’t so much as blink my way, not that I blamed her. She was grieving, after all.
Aileen knew the law, and she knew it well. She had no grounds to dispute them as her son, the youngest of the Kelly’s, had openly confessed to his crime. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. So when she storms into the building an hour later, she overlooks her sons and comes at me with wide flashing eyes, hissing at me like a feral cat down to brawl.
Standing at five feet five inches with a slim frame, her frizzy red hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail, and a crisp pair of the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen, she is a force to be reckoned with. Her black sweats and oversized black sweatshirt tell me she’s come straight from her bed, and I’m guessing a large part of her fury stems from the frightening feeling she must have felt when her phone rang at 3:00 a.m.
Aileen confirms this when she strides toward me, raising her hand and pointing her finger at me in warning, while speaking through her heavy accent, “You’ve sent one of my boys to an early grave, Julius Carter, and you’ll take another over my dead body. Mark my words, boy.” She looks up at me, although it feels she’s looking down her nose at me in loathing. “I am having none of this.”
Before I have a chance to respond, the buzzer goes off overhead, and before anyone has a chance to move, I look to Braden and calmly advise, “I would answer that if I were you.”
But Aileen barks a laugh, glaring at me in disbelief. “Think you be dishing out orders, do you, boy?” Years of smoking have caused lines to form around her mouth. She looks to her son, and forewarns with narrowing brows, “You answer that and you’ll have me to deal with, sonny Jim.”
I get the power trip. I’m in her building, having just shot her son, and now I sit here with my gun lowered, but that fools no one. I’m quicker than any of these mutts.
Taking a deep breath, I turn to the mature woman and speak without a hint of malice, despite how hard it is to pull off. “Your son pulled a gun on my woman, planned to kill her right in front of me. What would you have done, Aileen? I only did what I had to, and as you can see…” I jerk my chin over to the opposite wall, where Connor sits against the wall, clutching at his wounded shoulder while wincing in pain. The hand with the hole in the center of its palm rests against his outstretched thigh, shaking. “Connor lives.” I glare at the injured man. “Which is more than he deserves, I might add.”
Aileen blinks at me in stunned disbelief. “That’s what this is all about? A woman?” She glances over at Alejandra and scowls. “Over this tramp?”
Alejandra’s cheeks blaze bright red. She opens her mouth and a flurry of Hispanic curses I don’t completely understand fly out. And, by God, it makes my dick want to salute her.
“That tramp…” I reach up, pistol in hand, using it to scratch at the itch on my brow. My voice is low and dangerous, as I return, “…is my wife.”