Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“It’s all they’re talking about. The fucking Russians.”
“This is in theory meant to be a celebration of the new alliance, but we both know what it really is.”
“A god damn war meeting.” He takes another long drink. “Seamus already got me.”
“What’d he say?”
“We’re on notice. Wants me to guarantee my boys will be ready if they’re called on. You know how many times we’ve gone on hits for the family?”
“I’m guessing not many.”
“Fuck no. People like you and Cormac do that shit. No offense.”
“None taken. The family’s been spoiled.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He finishes off the beer and slides it forward. “We’ll do what’s asked of us, you can bank on that, but I’ve got a feeling there won’t be enough blood in this city to stop whatever’s coming. You take care, alright? I got a whole bunch of new shitty jobs to deal with.”
“Good luck, Connor.”
He salutes and walks off, hands shoved in his pockets, looking ten years older. I nurse my drink and let the noise of the bar wrap around me. I wonder how Regan’s doing at home, if she’s being smart and staying indoors, or if she’s being a pain in the ass and going against my express wishes. Probably the latter if I know her. I smile to myself, and I should be pissed off, but I’m so damn soft when it comes to her.
I wish she were here. That’s the fucked part, if I’m being honest. I’ve never wanted a woman by my side before, always felt more comfortable in dim rooms like this one, populated by killers, thieves, and generally bad mother fuckers. Except I’m itching to go back to my apartment, to find my pretty wife, and to hold her against me.
There’s a reason I haven’t been home much.
It’s too god damn tempting, and we’re headed toward war.
I can’t let myself go soft.
But I’m melting all the same.
“You good?” I look up as Luke takes the seat Connor vacated a few minutes earlier. “I had to escape that fucking table. I swear, I was going to cut my own throat listening to all that.”
“You don’t like being a part of the planning committee?”
Luke grunts and rubs his face with both hands. He’s got a vodka on ice at his elbow. “They go in circles, again and again, when it’s so obvious, right? There’s really only one path forward.”
“Everyone’s saying it. But what’s your take?”
“The Baranovs crossed the line.” He rolls the glass between his palms. “They attacked my sister’s wedding.”
“My wedding too.”
“Exactly! But they’re over there discussing other strategies.”
“You want guns blazing.”
“I want to finish this once and for all. I don’t want it to drag out.”
“That’s one way of looking at it. But maybe you should think Declan and his brothers know what they’re doing?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Luke doesn’t sound convinced. He’s a decent sort, but not my type. Too wrapped up in politics. Too sheltered by his father. Not enough scar tissue on him.
“Your sister say anything to you? About me and her?”
He seems surprised by the question. “Not really, and I did ask.”
“Told her to come to you if I did anything fucked up?”
“Pretty much.”
I like that he doesn’t deny it. That wins some points. “Good. You should kill me if I do.”
“I’ll try.”
“I respect that.” I hold up my glass. “Here’s to righteous murders.”
“Here’s to surgical strikes.” He drinks but doesn’t seem satisfied. “She likes you, I think.”
I go very still. For some fucked reason my heart quickens straight up into my throat. Why the hell do I feel like this? What’s it matter if my wife likes me or not?
“Tell her that sometime.”
“Regan’s got her issues. You need to ease her in. Let her get used to things on her own time. Give her space.”
“I’m not sure why her brother’s giving me relationship advice.”
“Maybe I want to see my sister happy. She’s stuck with you now. Might as well make the best of it.”
“Pragmatic. Makes sense.”
“Plus, she can be such a pain in the ass when she’s miserable.” He flashes a quick grin, raising his glass. “You’ll see. Has she given you the look yet?”
I smile despite myself. I know exactly what he means. It’s the pinched glare she gets when she’s livid. She had it the whole time we were at the store last night.
I’m about to tell him I’m familiar when there’s a commotion in the back of the room. Shouting, angry, scared, along with a familiar ping of anxiety running through the people nearby. Everybody’s craning to see what’s going on which means more bodies start cramming the tight space. I push my drink aside and stand, reaching for my weapon.
There are guards outside. A dozen of them, watching front and back. But even with the muscle, we’re still vulnerable. Finn said they only decided to do this because it was a way to start the war planning under the guise of a celebration. He figured it’d be about as safe as it ever could be.