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)
His grin widens then he takes a mouthful, closing his eyes, savoring the taste. He swallows then smacks his lips together. “One thing the Scots do well, mate. Scotch whiskey. You cannae get better.” He holds his glass high, assessing the color. “MacAllan. ’72. Oh aye, it costs a pretty penny, but I’d rather swallow my own piss than drink some off-the-shelf shite.” He lowers his glass then peers over at me through narrowed brows. “Mandy,” he says, “told me you weren’t dead, she did. I didn’t believe her. Thought it was wishful thinking on her part. I know she wanted to meet ya.”
Okay, then. Here we go. “You know who I am.” Not a question.
He raises his hands in the air, eyes wide. “Only by chance, I assure you. Your da asked me to track you down for him when you moved to Australia to follow that lass a’yours. I got sources all over, see? His reach only goes so far as ‘merica.” He sips again. “Found you’d taken a bullet. Died.” Evander shakes his head. “Never seen my Mandy so blue. She couldn’t believe it, and when she got your autopsy report, her happiness came back in spades. Absolutely convinced you weren’t dead.” He tilts his head. “Gotta hand it to her. She’s a bit like Zep like that. Once they get something in their heads, forget about it. Nothing you say can change their minds.”
Don’t want to know my pops. I’ll do almost anything to avoid the subject of him.
I almost understood all of what he said. “Zep?”
He blinks at me. “Yeah.” He watches me carefully and speaks with just as much caution. “Your brother.”
What the fuck? I have a brother now?
How many other siblings were going to come out of the woodwork?
“You didn’t know.”
Clearly thrown, I grunt out, “Any others?”
He tips his head back and laughs, openly amused. “Not that I know of.”
“Good.”
And the asshole laughs again. “Had a feeling I’d have liked you. You and me,” he utters a semi-sober, “we’re alike some.”
“So, Mandy and Zep, huh?” I let out a long exhale, shaking my head. “Fuck me.”
Evander’s eyes smile. “You’d best call her Manda. I’m the only one she allows to call her Mandy. Thinks it comes off unprofessional with her work.” At my raised brows, he fills me in. “She’s a doctor, my clever girl, she is.”
A doctor? Shit. Smart girl, indeed. That explains why she looked over the autopsy report.
He walks around his desk, pulls open a drawer and pulls out a cigar, holding it up to me. Never was a cigar guy myself. I decline graciously, and he purses his lips, surprised. When he pulls out a blunt, a sly grin crosses his face, and he extends his arm to me. “Homegrown. My own make.”
When a man offers you a blunt, you don’t refuse. Doubly when he tells you the shit is his own.
I take it from him and run it under my nose, inhaling deeply.
The pungent green smells so good it makes my mouth water. I want it so damn bad, but grudgingly reach out to hand it back to him. I’m not here for pleasure.
Evander inclines his head in understanding. “Take it.”
The blunt is tucked away in my jacket pocket and, reluctantly, I lay out my plea. I run a hand over my mouth and blink down at that monstrous desk of his, choosing my words wisely. “I’m a proud man, MacDiarmid.”
Then, nothing. That’s all I got.
I don’t know where to go from there.
Straightening in his chair, his brow furrows and he leans over the table, looking me in the eye. He gets me. “What do you need?”
“Two of your men are in my way. Conti and Nikulin. I need them to go away.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth, hissing. He looks torn a moment, before he utters, “And then what?”
“Then I get to go home.” Simple.
“So I give you two of my hardest hitters, lose some major business along the way”—his brow rises in question—“and what do I get in return?”
My lips thin. This is the tricky part.
I don’t want to bullshit this guy, so I don’t. “I have nothing to offer you.”
He stares at me a long moment before his lip twitches, a look of confusion marring his face. “Mighty fucking proposition you make, mate.”
I sit in silence, cradling my whiskey, running my thumb along the delicate crystal, knowing very well I’ve just made an ass of myself. And it doesn’t feel good. In fact, it fucking sucks.
Forever passes before he speaks again. “Listen, pal, I’m a married man. And sometimes that means doing things you really don’t want to do for the sake of your missus’ happiness.” Tipping his glass back, he downs the whiskey and places the tumbler on the table in front of him then glances at me. “If Mandy finds out you came to me and I turned you away, she’d have my balls.” He throws me a knowing look. “And I like my balls, Falco.”