Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Okay, so you have the three sketches I did for design. I’ll adjust them to add the towers. You talk them through with Bill, Zach and Tod, and give me notes. I’ll make any changes, and we’ll have finals. Then we’re a go,” I finished it.
“Want a beer?” Gabe asked Jacob from his spot in the open fridge.
“No, it’s date night,” Jacob replied.
Alexis beamed.
I beamed along with her.
Jacob wasn’t beaming, but he seemed a lot more chipper, so I knew how date night ended for them.
I also now knew how awesome date nights could be.
We said our goodbyes, including a hug and a “You’re the best, Willow” from Alexis, a longer, tighter squeeze than normal from Jacob, and they were out the door.
When I turned, I nearly ran into Gabe, he was standing that close to me.
I looked up at him, still beaming, but for a different reason this time.
“Well, what’s on your mind, hot stuff?” I teased.
“Not that, cupcake,” he said quietly. “Come sit down with me.”
I didn’t like his tone, and I didn’t like his look, one that registered belatedly.
So I didn’t hesitate in walking to the couch and sitting down with him, or on him, since he pulled me into his lap.
This felt nice, but I was beginning to freak due to his demeanor being freakout-worthy.
“Gabe, what’s going on?”
“Last night, William Dexter was found beside his bed, dead. On his knees, he took two bullets to the back of his head. Nothing was stolen. Nothing even disturbed. There’s no other way to look at it. That’s a hit.”
One could say that was so not a baseball bat to a kneecap.
“His two boys dropped off radar,” Gabe went on. “They’re probably dead too. Amy Small is AWOL. And Dillon Small was shivved in prison. He’ll survive, but it was bad, and the message was sent.”
I didn’t know what to think about this, though nothing good was coming to me.
“I guess those loan sharks don’t mess around,” I mumbled.
“Cupcake, that wasn’t loan sharks,” Gabe educated me. “Loan sharks can’t get paid if the people who owe them are dead.”
I stared at him, not comprehending.
He explained it to me.
Scarily.
“Word on the street is, Dimitri Alexeyev is not a fan of anyone messing with someone the Angels have under their protection.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“And that word on the street is word because Alexeyev put it down on the street.”
“Oh my God,” I wheezed.
“What happened in that meeting with you women and him?” Gabe asked.
“We walked in. Titus and him hugged. He introduced us. We said the money was his but asked for some to give to Duane to paint his house…uh, Gabe?” I called when he closed his eyes.
He opened his eyes.
“What?” I asked. “What did we do wrong?”
“Baby, you face a tough guy, you face a hard guy, you face a guy who’s cold as fuck and values human life so little, he’s two steps up from an animal, one of those steps is he has opposable thumbs, the other is he wears clothes instead of meeting the world in his natural pelt, and that’s it, you show him a bunch of beautiful women with steel backbones and soft hearts, you expose way too fuckin’ much.”
This didn’t sound too good.
“Duane really needs his house painted,” I whispered. “Though, when we gave him the money and made him promise that was what he had to use it for, and he made that promise, I think he lied.”
Gabe tucked some hair behind my ear and answered with a simple, “Yeah.”
“Did we fuck up?” I asked.
He sighed.
Then he curled his hand around the side of my neck and answered, “Now you Angels got the guys at NI&S, Titus, every sex worker on the street, every homeless person in the state, a marker from a US Congressman, and the loyalty of the head of the Russian Mob in Phoenix. No. I think you’re doin’ all right.”
“But Dex and Dillon and…do you think Amy is dead?”
“Dimitri Alexeyev was never going to do business with William Dexter, babe.” Gabe shared. “He was toying with him. Whether or not he’d let Duane out of his inner sanctum still breathing is anyone’s guess and probably entirely dependent on Alexeyev’s mood. But he wouldn’t have walked out with anything but his life. Dexter was forty-four years old, never got even close to building the criminal empire he was all fired up to create, and he’d pissed off pretty much everybody he’d come into contact with. He still didn’t stop. His time on this earth was limited, and not to take responsibility from where it sits, but the truth of it is, he put himself on his knees in the end.”
“Okay,” I said.
“As for Amy, the mob doesn’t call hits on women, or usually anyone, unless they’re in play. That’s the only good part of organized crime being organized. She might have played with Duane, but she wasn’t in play. A guess, she was there when they did Dexter, and they impressed on her she should find somewhere far from here to land. She’s a ghost, but not a real one, and she’ll never come back to Phoenix again.”