Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“And I’m not shutting down!”
I pause, only smiling a little. “You will. And soon.”
He lunges for me, grabbing my collar just before his fist slams against my jaw. I growl, squeezing my eyes shut as my face whips so far right that pain shoots up my neck. My cheek catches fire as the inside of my mouth cuts against my teeth.
I swallow blood. Fuck.
His thugs and Farrow swoop in, trying to push us away from each other, and I fight to stay on my feet as the world tilts around me for a moment.
Curling my fingers around his throat, I shove Hugo back. He stumbles into his guys, both of them straightening him up immediately as Farrow steadies me.
Hugo breathes hard, both of us glaring at each other. “You have twenty-four hours to get your ass back out of the country, or I hunt you down and kill you,” he tells me. “And I will reopen that grave and dump you where Reeves should’ve put you eight years ago.”
I get in his face. “Why not do it now?”
He’s fucking scared. Too many cops around tonight, and we’re in public.
Or maybe Reeves, wherever he is, doesn’t want me dead yet. Hugo’s still not really the boss, and it pisses him off.
He closes the distance between us. “There are twenty-thousand breaths in twenty-four hours.” He inhales, savoring a long gulp of air. “One down. Make the most of the rest you have left.”
Pushing off, he leaves, back down the fire escape and followed by his boys.
Twenty-thousand breaths.
He wants me gone by this time tomorrow night. Would he kill me?
I draw in one and let it leave me.
Quinn…
I inhale another. Then another, picking up a scent.
Farrow steps up to my side. “Lucas...”
“Go take care of your shit.”
I don’t want to talk to him right now.
Filling my lungs again, I catch a fragrance. Subtle. But close.
He descends the fire escape, and I follow him. Car horns honk, the area floods with lights, and we rush to the street to see the commotion. Sprinkles of rainfall, music blasts from a truck’s speakers, and Farrow turns, giving me a grin.
Weston is here.
“Shit,” I grunt.
He holds my eyes, backing away, and heads to his crew who just rolled up to make a mess of the Falls tonight. Holding out his hands, he shrugs, and it’s amazing how easily he can pretend to have a one-track mind when he’s actually quite good at multi-tasking.
I watch Weston bulldoze their way into the crowd, taking over the music and amping up the thunder as rain spills on skin and bodies sway together.
I gaze out at the crowd, now so thick you can’t make out individual faces as they hover close, hold each other, and the rain soaks their hair to their faces.
Chaos.
What a perfect opportunity for Hugo to strike. Or Drew.
One breath, then another, and another, and I feel the target branded onto my back, but I weave through the dancers, finding her at the edge, near the sidewalk.
The strap of her dress slides down her arm, and I’m no better than Drew Reeves. Panting after a girl way too young for me.
I knew I smelled her.
I stare at her, she stares at me.
I take a step toward her, and she takes one back.
Did she hear what we said up there? How would she get up there without us seeing? How would she have gotten down so fast?
One thing is likely, though. If she followed me here, then she heard what Farrow and I were talking about back at the house.
I move toward her, and she moves away again, holding my eyes. Dylan and Aro dance a few yards behind her, and I softly jerk my head, telling them to leave.
This is what it would’ve felt like to embrace Green Street. To be the villain and take what I want.
They stop moving, looking to her for direction, but she’s unaware of anything else but me.
Tears fill her eyes, even as she clenches her fists.
I’m not the best choice for her. I’m not a choice at all.
But twenty-thousand breaths and they’re all going to be for her.
Closing the distance, I press my body to hers, holding her waist tightly. When I look over her head again, Dylan and Aro are sinking into the crowd, giving us privacy.
“Who are you?” Quinn chokes out.
Yeah, she heard everything.
Lifting her up by the backs of her thighs, I slip my fingers under her dress, close enough to feel the heat pouring out of her.
She lets out a groan, squeezing my shirt in her fists as rain pours down her arms.
“You’ve got ass at your beck and call, I hear,” she grits out. “Call one of your girls.”
I love the flush of anger in her cheeks.
She jerks her chin to the crowd, the two of us just figures in the mass. “They all want you.”