Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Somehow, though, my cock was still rock-solid as the icy water streamed down my back and chest.
With a sigh, I reached down, fisting my length and stroking, trying not to let my mind wander back to my bedroom, to the woman wearing my shirt, to her creamy skin and the way her pupils blew wide and her breath went shallow when my fingers touched her stomach. Or back to the damn office. Or the haunted house.
In the end, they all came flooding back as I stroked myself. Her sighs, her shivers, the crush of her lips, how wet she was for me, how hard she came around my fingers, how much harder she would come when I was buried deep inside her.
I came hard, groaning all alone in the damn shower like a fucking teenager.
I punished myself with a few more moments of frigid cold water before climbing out, drying off, and getting dressed again.
I made my way downstairs, brewed a pot of coffee, and grabbed my phone.
Before I could even check my texts, though, there was a knock at my door.
I winced, hoping the sound wouldn’t bother Hazel as I strode to my front door to let Domenico in.
“I thought you were meeting the shipments.”
“They arrived already. I called a couple of the field hands and the kids in to get the maze done again and the pumpkins placed. They don’t need me for that shit. But your soldiers are keeping an eye on ‘em all.”
“Alright,” I said, moving aside to let him in. He was right; setting up a maze and laying pumpkins in a field weren’t really his specialty.
“How is she?”
“A little tipsy. And hopefully sleeping. There was a lot of glass in her hands. And she’s got some nasty bruises starting on her shoulders.”
“When the fucker tried to drag her back through the broken greenhouse wall. Threw her arms out to stay outside.”
Domenico walked through my house like he owned the joint, a habit we’d all grown used to since he got out of prison. He always made himself at home.
“There’s coffee,” I called behind him as I locked the door.
I was only a few steps behind him, but by the time I got into the kitchen, he’d already poured himself a cup and had dropped himself down at the kitchen table.
“Find anything out?” I asked.
“We got the fucker’s picture circulating. No one recognized him right off, though.”
“And Big Ed?”
“Moved.”
“Already?”
“Mighta had some fun playing with that backhoe before the deliveries started. Got ‘em buried twice as deep this time. For the time being, set up a compost pile over the spot with all the old hay and corn.”
Once things calmed down a bit, I wanted to create some sort of memorial to the guy, even if there was no actual grave marker. Just something to remember a part of our Family.
I hadn’t been lying to Hazel when she’d asked if this kind of thing happened a lot. While, yeah, there was a fair amount of danger involved with being in organized crime, we’d been at this for generations. We had a reputation. We were careful. We didn’t have members of our crew getting murdered.
Sure, we lost men here and there. To accidents, to overdoses, to poor health. But not murder.
Sure, Big Ed was just an associate. He wasn’t even officially in the Family the way a soldier was. But he’d been a fixture for long enough that we all figured he would eventually get a promotion.
That said, he was, well, associated with us. That alone should have protected him from harm, let alone murder.
Domenico was right, though. This felt pointed. As far as we could tell, no one else had been targeted.
I had a body in my woods, thousands of dollars’ worth of damages, and an employee had been attacked.
The thing was, more so than anyone else, my business had been stable.
I had my soldiers continuing the work with certain importers overseas and exporters from the area.
We got our cut.
It all went smoothly.
To be honest, though, I’d been focusing a lot on the legit side of the business the past few months. It was possible something slipped by right under my nose.
Sure, that was the reason for having soldiers—to make sure nothing got past us. But they could have gotten just as comfortable as I did, let something slip.
Or, worse yet, gotten tempted by someone else’s offer.
That could explain Big Ed being killed.
Had he seen or heard something he shouldn’t have? Did someone worry he might blab to me, so they took him out?
Fuck.
All I had were questions.
“Dom, I need to be here. I promised her I would be down here.”
“What do you need from me?” he asked, knowing what I was saying.
“I need eyes on Ed’s inner world. Get in his apartment. Get in his phone and his laptop.”