Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“You don’t even have to say it,” Aye sighs.
“Apparently, I do. What the fuck were you guys doing?”
“Frank said it would be good for Myla to learn how to shoot, she agreed, and I agreed with them. The plan was good, man. Just the situation got fucked up.”
“Do not…under any circumstance…leave Myla in Frank’s care. You got me?”
“You know I wouldn’t,” he assures me.
“Good. Now, how bad was he hurt?”
“Grazed,” he whispers, and I can only imagine my uncle eating that shit up like it was a near-fatal wound.
“Put Myla on.”
“Hello,” she says softly.
“No guns, makamae,” I tell her firmly and hear her move around for a moment.
Then her soft, sweet voice slides down the line, wrapping around me. “I thought it would be good to know how to use a gun…just in case.”
“If you still feel that way when I get home, I will teach you how to use one safely,” I promise.
“Don’t be mad at Uncle Frank. He was just trying to help.”
“You shot him, which means you could have shot yourself, so he may have been trying to help, but he wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“In all fairness, I didn’t know the gun was going to jump like it did,” she confides.
I do not even want to imagine the kind of gun she was using that would jump the way she described. “No more guns.”
“No more guns,” she repeats. “Love you,” she whispers after a moment.
I let those two words wash over me before replying just as quietly. “You too, makamae. Be good, and I’ll call you when I can.”
“Promise,” she says before I click the phone off.
“I’m going to kill your dad one of these days,” I tell my cousin.
“He tries.” He shakes his head.
“He’s crazy.”
“True,” he mumbles.
My uncle is a good man, but fuck if he isn’t constantly causing drama. I stop at a red light and rub my hands over my face, thinking about everything that has happened and the battle I still have on my hands.
“How’s Myla?”
“Good,” I say, telling him the truth. She has put everything in prospective for me, and I know that, one day, when we’re sitting on the beach, watching our babies play in the ocean, I will look back on these times and know that all the bullshit I had to deal with was worth it.
“So, you guys are for real?”
I look over at my cousin, a man I love like my brother, and speak the only truth I know. “There was never a time when it wasn’t real. Even when I was fighting it, I still knew I would fight for it.”
He grunts and shakes his head as the light turns green and I take off again.
Once we arrive at the police station, I see Richard Rosenblum, my attorney, standing near the front doors with his phone to his ear. We park, get out of the car, and head up the stairs.
“Just got off the phone with Judge Connell and explained that they have been keeping a client here without any explanation. He said he would be calling the chief now, so hopefully, by the time we get up there, they will have this shit sorted out.”
“Nice to see you too, Rich,” I mutter, but I feel my lips twitch. Rich, and his father before him, has worked with my family since I can remember.
“Yeah, yeah. We can catch up with a beer after we get your man out.” He smiles as Junior opens the door and we all walk inside. Rich leads us to an elevator, then up another set of stairs, and into a large waiting room. “Wait here,” he tells us.
I nod and watch him go to the desk and begin talking to the woman sitting there. When she picks up the phone, he shakes his head and says something that has her sitting up a little taller and glaring at him. I watch her mouth move but can’t make out any words as she speaks to someone on the line before hanging up and saying something to Rich. He shakes his head and walks back over to us.
“The chief’s in a meeting.”
“Seriously?” Junior says, voicing my own question.
“My guess is he’s on the phone with the judge. We’ll give him a few minutes. After that, I’ll make another call.”
We sit there for another five minutes, and then one of the doors opens up and Pika comes walking out looking a little worse for wear. His clothes are wrinkled and his hair is in disarray, but he doesn’t appear to be hurt in any way. He walks over to us as Rich walks over to the side to question the officer who brought him out.
“Glad to see you, man. A jail cell is not my ideal location to catch up on sleep,” he grumbles, shaking my hand then doing the same to Junior.