Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Which means I’m screwed.
I can either try to run away and make that meeting.
Or I let it go and I’ll never find out what the hell Dad’s talking about.
I delete the email without replying. Tears stream down my face. Angry tears, frustrated tears. How am I going to get to Coconut Gorge in two days without anyone finding out?
Because if I’m followed—Dad’s dead.
I log out, clear the history, pull his windows up, and make it look like nobody ever sat at the computer.
Then I go to the studio because there’s nothing to do right now but think and paint.
Chapter 26
Erick
I walk the floor of my casino with Ren by my side. I try to do this at least once or twice a week—but lately, I’ve been distracted by the gorgeous painter girl I have working her ass off back in my house.
She’s everywhere for me, from the moment I wake to the moment I fall asleep and everything between.
“Quiet day,” Ren remarks as a group of young men wearing business suits all cheer around a craps table. “Wonder how much damage they’re doing?”
“We’ll get them in the end.” I pause near one of the bars and signal for a drink. “Want something?”
“I’m fine.” Ren gazes into the crowd, always looking for threats. Take the man from the streets, but the streets don’t ever leave the man. That’s why he’s my number two—paranoid to the end, and I love him for it. “I meant to tell you this earlier, but you seemed like you were worried about other things. I figure now’s a good opportunity.”
“You’re keeping things from me now?” My whiskey arrives and I take a long sip. Drinking on the job’s almost required for me. I’m the damn boss, and people want to see me acting like it.
“Not if I don’t have to, but you’ve been busy with other projects.” He glances over. “You’ve been coming in less and less. Spending more time out there.” He nods in the general direction of the desert. “I’ve been picking up your slack around these parts.”
I bristle at his tone, but I keep it cool, because he’s right. Ren’s been stepping up and I appreciate him for it.
“I’ve been making sure this plan comes together.”
“You’ve been lusting after your houseguest.”
“Easy,” I say, eyes narrowing.
“That’s what I mean.” He jabs a finger at me. “A comment like that never would’ve bothered you before.”
“Hellie’s different. Things are different.”
“Yeah? Why? Tell me what it is about this girl, and maybe I’ll understand why she’s worth putting yourself through all this shit.”
I open my mouth to tell him off but stop. Ren’s always had my back, and if he’s doing this now, it’s because he cares.
Why is Hellie different?
It’s a reasonable question from his perspective. I’ve been with plenty of women over the years, but I’ve never cared about one the way I care about Hellie.
Why is she worth it?
“She’s got something,” I say, straining to find words. I take another drink. I’ve never been good at expressing myself. I’m the quiet one in the family. Maybe that’s why I like her—Hellie oozes emotion, while I keep them locked down tight. “It’s her focus.”
“She can paint. I’ll give her that. But why her?”
“She’s beautiful. She’s clever. She likes to fight, which I appreciate. But it’s more than that. It’s the way she can get sucked into her own little world and make something better in ours. You know how many people can actually add instead of subtract? Everyone’s a taker. Everyone wants to get what they’re owed. There are so few people who give anything, and Hellie gives. In her art, she gives it all.”
Ren grunts. “Alright. You’re selling it.”
“I don’t need to convince you of shit, okay? I’m telling you what I’m thinking, that’s all.”
“Fine. I understand you.” He crosses his arms, but some of his combative attitude fades. “I heard from Frost’s people a couple hours ago. The sale’s done.”
My eyebrows raise. “And you didn’t tell me right away?”
“Like I said, you’ve been doing other shit. You didn’t get in until an hour ago, and you wanted to go for your little walk right away.”
He’s got a point, but fuck, he’s also doing this on purpose. “What did they say?”
“Everything went the way it should. No surprises, no problems.”
“The money?”
“Accounted for, allegedly. They say our split is coming shortly.”
“I don’t like that ‘shortly’ bullshit.”
“We’ll get it, don’t worry.” He stands up straight, dropping his arms, one hand going to his hip, right where he keeps a pistol tucked under his shirt. It’s like one second, he’s relaxed, at ease, and the next he’s a pitbull on alarm.
I follow his gaze. Across the casino, four men walk toward us, three of them big goons in black suits and sunglasses, all of them packing heat under those oversized jackets.