Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“There can’t be anywhere for all these women.”
“Not one place, no. But he found beds in five separate ones.”
“How soon?”
“Some today. Others, tomorrow. I figure the ones detoxing the hardest go in first. Then, three days from now, we’ll know everyone is getting the care we need, and we can finally head home.”
I was more excited about that than I’d expected.
Dylan in my room. Nothing to distract us from spending as much time together as we wanted. Nothing hanging over our heads. Enjoying each other. Making plans.
I couldn’t fucking wait.
Dylan - 3 days
“This is nicer than I expected,” I admitted as Colter, Syn, and I walked down the road toward the main street of Shady Valley. Colter was walking Mack, I was walking Molly, and Syn was walking Sugar. Because of their bond, sure, but also because of his bum arm and all of us knowing that she was well-behaved on a walk, so he wouldn’t have to worry about needing both his hands to steady her if something spooked her.
I was still getting to know Mack and Molly. It was going to take weeks, if not months, for them to decompress and fully come out of their shells. And by then, we’d also be dealing with a litter. But only a small one. The vet said it was likely because she’d already had a litter not long ago. But she was only carrying three puppies. I had a feeling Syn might want to take one.
We’d have to find good homes for the other two. Because as much as I suddenly wanted to have all the dogs, I knew we were living at the clubhouse, and having three large breed dogs was already a little much, considering there were several other dogs in and out of the club. And, well, Cat and the Rotties weren’t fans of each other.
“What is?” Syn asked.
“I don’t know. Being here, I guess,” I admitted. “This town. It’s not a town that, you know, looks great when you first come through. But it grows on you. I actually found myself kind of missing it while we were away.”
“I get that. I wasn’t impressed when I was released either,” Colter agreed.
“Probably wouldn’t have given the place a chance if my brother wasn’t stuck here because of parole,” Syn added. “But it’s grown on me.”
“It’s home,” Colter agreed as we closed in on the main street.
When, suddenly, there was a loud bang that had all three of us jolting. Sugar whined. Mack barked frantically and yanked at his leash. Molly cowered.
Colter and I shared a look.
We knew that sound.
And it was close.
Colter reached for his waistband and handed me Mack’s leash before moving toward the parking lot behind an abandoned building where the sound came from.
I knew from the way his shoulders went slack that there was no active threat before he even turned toward us.
“Syn, take our guns and go to The Bog,” Colter said, coming back and reaching for his phone instead.
“Is someone dead?” I asked, surprised at how calm my tone was.
But, well, a lot of people were dead now.
I was kind of numb to it.
“Yeah. Gotta call it in.”
Syn took the guns and walked a few feet toward the pub, moving inside, disappearing for just long enough for Colter to make the call to the cops, then coming back like nothing had happened.
“Cillian hid the guns for us,” he said, his voice low as a few more people who heard the gunshot started to make their way toward us.
The sirens came just seconds later.
“Did you see who it was?” someone asked, moving closer and looking at Colter.
I had no idea who he was, but he was tall and fit in a dark gray suit, with a handsome face, and stormy blue eyes.
“Yeah,” Colter said. Then, seeing my interest, he added, “Rian, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is Rian Murphy. He and his brothers own the pub.”
And were the Irish mafia in the area.
I’d gotten the lowdown about the major players in Shady Valley on the drive back.
There were the Murphy brothers: Cillian, Sean, Rian, Conor, and Eoin. They were the mob. They owned The Bog, and they employed Detroit’s cousin, Lula, who cooked their books.
Then there was the Novikoff family: the brothers, Konstantin and Mikhail, and the sisters, Katarina and Anastasia. They were Bratva and owned the pool hall, of all things.
Then there was Czar Petcova—Nyx’s ex—and Erion Kadare. Czar used to be in the Bulgarian mob. But the two men were independent now, working together to corner the drug trade in the area.
I’d been surprised to hear how many crime syndicates were working in such a small town. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Small towns meant small police forces that didn’t have great resources or a lot of training. It wouldn’t be hard to grease the hands of guys like that to look the other way.