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)
That’ll lessen his corporate value to the shareholders.
Army hands me a thumb drive. “This should do it.”
I hold it between my fingers, not excited to see everything on it, but if it’s the nail in the coffin, great. If not, I might be able to blackmail my father into not fighting his charges so he can go away for a little while. I imagine he’s already lawyered up.
“And, uh,” Dallas whispers, stealing glances behind him into the kitchen. “They found a body in the canal.”
A body?
“Milo Price,” Iron says.
What the hell? Milo’s dead?
The last time I saw him he was running under his own power away from the scene of the crash yesterday. The storm was still going strong.
“Did he drown?” I ask, not actually believing it’s plausible, though.
“Stabbed,” Army points out.
Stabbed.
How could…Who…?
“It wasn’t me,” Dallas tells us.
I look behind me to Anna-Katherine squirting syrup into her mug and then adding whipped cream.
“Are you sure she was with Aracely today?” Dallas asks.
No, but…“You think she just dragged his body out there herself?”
We’ll talk to Aracely and clear it up, but if I know one thing about that woman, she’ll cover for other women. I don’t know if we’re going to get a straight answer from her.
“It was probably some woman’s husband,” I say.
Even if it hasn’t immediately sunk in that a guy I used to be friends with is dead, I don’t expect any remorse to ever hit me. I’ve hated him for a long time, and the world is better without him.
Dallas pulls the pocketknife he took from her tonight out of his pocket and opens it. Flipping it over, he scans it for any sign, but he shakes his head. “It’s clean.”
“Of course it is.” I gaze at my sister smiling as Macon dumps chocolate chips in her cup. “A lot of people hated Milo.”
And we all exchange glances before turning and watching the table where Liv, Clay, and Krisjen sit—all victims of his—and looking over at Macon, who detested him just as much.
“Someone’s husband, then,” Dallas says.
I nod. “Sounds good to me.”
Army gives a half smile, the two of them joining the others at the table, while Dallas leads me up to bed.
We need food, but I’m quickly adapting to Dallas’s needs.
I smile to myself. First things first.
35
Dallas
Two Months Later
“Do you think he’ll go to prison?” Macon asks, twisting a wrench under the hood of a car.
I stand around it with Army and Iron.
“I doubt it.” I slide my hands into my pockets. “But at least he’s gone for a while.”
Garrett Ames has enough money to buy a comfortable stay at a prison for white-collar criminals as he awaits prosecution, and his defense keeps stalling on a trial date to buy time, so they can search for legal loopholes.
Which there always are for men like him.
“And his businesses?” Iron asks. “Real estate?”
“He’s not stupid,” I assure them. “Callum might’ve put him in jail, but he’ll want it all in an Ames’s hands more than anyone else’s.”
Callum has proxy over everything that Garrett can’t control from the inside, which is almost everything.
Some kids breeze past on their bicycles, Paisleigh throwing water balloons at them. It’s crazy how St. Carmen thought we’d infiltrate their community when their kids keep moving here instead. Anna-Katherine has her own room upstairs now, and if it were up to her, the three of us would live here full-time. I thought she might be more wary around so many men, but they all see her as another sister.
Trace comes down the steps and into the garage, tossing Army, Iron, and me a beer before cracking his open.
“School year starts this week?” Macon continues.
Liv, Clay, and Krisjen are missing from the family meeting, so hopefully this means it’ll be short.
“I’m ready,” I assure him, popping my top. “My classes are full, administration is happy.” I smooth down my tie as it blows in the wind, pre–school year meetings this morning demanding more than jeans and T-shirts. “I’m organizing a field trip to an archeological park and a service project on a trawler.”
“Is the Ministry happy with your performance?” Army asks.
“Are you kidding?” I tease. “He evaluates my performance daily.”
Trace snorts, Iron dribbling some of his beer as he chokes on a laugh.
But Macon barks, “All right, knock it off.”
I stifle my smile, content that at least I have job security, especially after how good my man got it last night.
The only problem now is trying to hide it in a Catholic school when I can’t stop fucking looking at him whenever he’s close.
I go on, running down my status report. “Callum is setting up an office in Dillinger Square. He’ll continue managing his investments and now his father’s holdings.”
He nods, tightening a bolt. “Krisjen and the city council are reviewing plans for Marymount’s expansion.”
“She better get them on board,” I tell him, “because—”