Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Well, one night, I walked in and something with Rune and some chick seemed hinky. So I checked out the cameras.”
“Not in the mood for dramatic storytelling here,” Fallon said. “Get to the point.”
“Well, imagine my surprise to see that pretty lady walk into the clubhouse and pull a gun on Rune.”
You could have heard a pin drop.
“The fuck?” Uncle Reign said, shooting me a look.
I held up a hand.
“I’ll run through this quickly so we can get to the judgment and questions part. Yes, Carmen came in here planning to kill me. No, I didn’t tell anyone. I wanted to figure out what it was about. So I had Junior track her down. Went to see her. Long story short, there was a drive-by at her place.”
“For fuck’s sake,” my father hissed.
“At the time, we thought the drive-by was something to do with Carmen and her sister’s duplex neighbor. But I got the girls to a hotel and in the process, realized that Carmen believed that while I was in Puerto Rico, I killed her best friend. I didn’t. But I was there. I saw it. It was fucked.”
“Rune…” Croft said, eyes wide.
I held up a hand. I knew he had words for me. But there would be time for that later.
“Anyway. I came back home. But then Carmen showed up because two men broke into her house, bound, and tried to kidnap her. Under all her makeup, she’s a bruised mess,” I told them. “I have Junior on the cameras around her house. And now by the shore. Hopefully, he pulls up something.”
“So this is about her, not you?” Fallon asked.
“I think it might be both. I think… I think this is related to Vicky’s murder. Maybe the real killer doesn’t like that Carmen and the one person who saw him kill this girl are getting chummy, comparing stories…”
There were a million questions then, demands to know about that fateful night. All the while, I could feel my father’s gaze on me, his eyes guarded, but I knew him well enough to know he was somehow blaming himself for the trouble I’d gotten myself into after I moved away from home.
I was going to have a lot of uncomfortable talks ahead of me. But I wanted to get all the facts out first, answer all the questions, get the whole club on this since I was clearly out of my depth doing it alone.
It was a solid forty-five minutes before some of the guys started filing out. Then I had my private talk with my father, then my brother, before, finally, Fallon.
He’d calmed down a lot by then and made his way behind the bar, pouring us each a drink. “I don’t like secrets,” he said.
“To be fair, I didn’t think this was something that could come back and bite me, or I would have told you about it. There was no reason to assume that anything from Puerto Rico would follow me here. Yes, my brother and I did some shit over there, but it was over when we left.”
“Until Carmen started digging around.”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. There are more questions than answers right now. I’m hoping Junior can get us something.”
“I think we obviously need to focus on this fuck who killed that girl.”
“I agree.”
“You can get Paine or Jackson to draw up a sketch of him.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“And it might be worth your time to get more information out of Carmen.”
“More? I think she’s told me everything.”
“She could tell you how she got your name. Who pointed in your direction? Why? That kind of shit.”
“Right. Yeah. I can do that.”
“Good. And I think this part goes without saying, but your ass is staying in the clubhouse until this is sorted. And, unfortunately, you also have to tell your brothers that they’re stuck inside too. You guys all look too similar to be out on the streets. These shooters don’t seem like geniuses. I don’t want them making mistakes.”
“Yeah, that’s smart.”
“I’d say I’m sorry to give them more reasons to be pissed at you, but this is the clusterfuck you created, man.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I know.”
“Alright. Go talk to your girl. She’s probably had her ear to the door this whole time.”
I didn’t correct him.
About her being mine.
Was it probably another lie?
I don’t know. Maybe.
But it felt right to hear her referred to as mine.
Whether she was or not.
I made my way into the hall, sucking in a steadying breath, then moving into my room.
Carmen didn’t have her ear to the door.
She was on the bed, back against the headboard, my pillow clutched to her chest. The TV was on, but the sound was too low to hear. Her phone was down at her side, and I imagined she’d been in touch with her sister at some point.