Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
“We can hire lawyers,” Liv states as Trace moves behind the oval bar in the center of the room and grabs a bottle. “We can tie this up for years. It was in our possession anyway! What’s the case?” She looks to Iron, me, and then Krisjen. “The Nuestra Señora de Atocha.”
Krisjen nods, looking to her husband, who stares out the window with his back to us. “The treasure hunters discovered it, and it was ruled that it belonged to them,” she adds.
“And if we deplete everything we have left,” Army fires back, “paying legal fees?”
“There are a couple hundred people at stake here, Army,” Liv argues. “You gonna whine or work the problem?”
“I’ve been working problems a lot longer than you!” he growls. Then he pivots, jutting his finger in my direction. “It’s his fucking turn!”
“It’s not his fault.”
I lower my eyes again as Iron tries to defend me.
“They knew nothing for years,” Army retorts. “And all of a sudden, Callum Ames has our number after two fucking weeks of interacting with him.”
He’s right.
I said something. I must’ve done something…
Why else would Callum indulge me? Bring me into the Wolfe Room unless he was trying to gather info?
A laugh bubbles in my throat, and I taste the bile. I thought we were playing.
Macon moves toward the front door. “I’ll call the lawyers.”
Twisting the lock, he steps outside, making his call under the awning.
He used to be like Army. Angry, volatile, someone you did not want in your face, but Krisjen calmed him down and the past few years of prosperity and growth made him…happy.
He let himself hope.
Krisjen stands near the bar stools, but her eyes remain on her husband.
It’s not that we need the money so much. We have businesses, jobs, and educations.
But Callum can do so much harm with that much wealth. He can buy things that aren’t for sale.
He just took away our future.
Army paces like he’s on patrol. “I hope you two had fun tonight,” he says, looking between me and Aracely as she adds some soda to her tequila behind the bar.
“Actually, I did,” she chirps, tipping her chin up. “I forget what his name is, but he had the nicest pair of eyes I’ve had on me in a while.”
“Celi, you move from one white boy to the other,” Army retorts. “How do you even keep them straight?”
I see the glass fly before I even register that she’s the one who threw it. Tequila sloshes onto the floor, followed by the ice, as Army ducks, glass shattering against the wall a few feet from where I lean. I twist my face away from the scattering shards.
Aracely hops onto the bar, throws her legs over, and charges for him. “Take a look in the mirror before you call me a whore!” she bellows.
Shoving a table over, she plants both hands on his chest, pushing the St. Carmen police officer into the wall. She tries to punch him, but he picks her up, shielding his hand under her arm while she thrashes.
“Enough!”
We all startle at Macon’s roar, turning to see him just inside the doors.
Army throws Aracely off, everyone falling silent for him to speak.
“Call Dieter,” he tells Trace. “Check on how fast he can get us restocked.”
Army takes a step toward him. “But we still have to transport it.”
Macon cuts him off. “First problem is first,” he tells him, then asks, “Where will they take our shit?”
Army draws in a breath, the wheels in his head turning. “There’s a lockup at the jail, I guess. But they’ll have an armored vehicle coming to take it to a more secure location. Probably tomorrow.”
Macon turns to Krisjen at his side. “Call your grandfather.”
She nods, having a judge in the family not proving at all useful so far, but who knows.
Liv approaches me. “You need to go to him.”
Go to him. Callum?
I shake my head, in total disbelief she’s telling me to put myself in his path again. What am I supposed to do? Blow him until we make back two hundred and sixty million dollars? Beg?
When she sees the defiance on my face, she turns. “Macon, tell him.”
I drop my ass in a chair, waiting for the order.
It never comes, though.
“Let’s get home,” Macon tells everyone, starting to walk back out the way we came in. “People will be scared.”
Everyone follows his lead, and I ignore Liv’s eyes on me and Iron’s pause next to me.
“I’ll leave you a car,” he whispers, dropping the keys on the table.
He knows I need to be alone. Would he want to show his face at home after this?
Macon doesn’t want any more of my help anyway. Once they’re gone and the pub is quiet, I pull a bottle out from behind the bar and listen to the rain, doing what I do best. Getting rid of the pain.