Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Cruising past High Street, I see the lane blocked up with barriers, tables, vendors, and people slowly filling the space under the street lights. They dance and drink, firecrackers going off as sparklers light up the air. Far off, a firework whistles into the sky. I don’t see the pop overhead, but I hear the fizzle as it dissipates somewhere.
I park along a side street and get out of the car, noticing the tail-end of another Mustang, like Dylan’s, turning and disappearing down another block.
I shake my head. She was in the pool with her family ten minutes ago. It can’t be her.
Farrow strides up to my side, and we turn at Frosted, heading past Rivertown.
“I think they’re gonna set off the city fireworks early,” Farrow says. “Rain’s coming.”
All the more reason to make this quick. We won’t be in the dark for long. “Where are they again?” I ask him.
“On the roof.”
We cut down the next street, pulling down the ladder to the fire escape. Chills prick the back of my neck again, and I look behind me, searching for someone following us. High Street practically vibrates under my shoes, laughter and liquor flowing in equal measure.
No one’s looking at me, though.
I shake it off. “How many of them are there?”
“Just Hugo and a couple of his lackeys.”
I side-eye him. “Isn’t that what you are?”
He could be leading me into a trap, but if there’s any chance to settle this on my own, I’m taking it.
But he speaks in a calm, steady tone. “Ciaran Pierce is my father,” he tells me.
I freeze, gaping at him. What the hell did he just say?
Tipping his chin up, he adds, “No one knows except Hunter.”
No one…
No one except Hunter and me now, he means.
He’s Ciaran’s son? He’s Fallon’s brother? And she doesn’t know?
Why would Ciaran not tell anyone?
Farrow breathes slowly, stating, “I will never hurt someone Fallon Caruthers loves.”
So I’m safe with him. Is that why he told me his secret?
God, Fallon… I clear my throat.
I hope he doesn’t expect that I can keep that secret. Not from her. He has to know that.
But I don’t have time to hash this out right now.
“In any case...” I nudge him to the ladder. “You go first.”
He chuckles, damn near jogging up the ladder as I haul myself up behind him.
We climb three flights and hop over the ledge, onto the roof. Hugo stands near a large air vent, flanked by two of his guys.
“Nicholas and Axel,” Farrow informs me under his breath.
Stopping just in front of Navarre, I swallow to wet my throat.
I know he enjoys being someone he imagines I’m scared of. I used to kick him out of Green Street when he was so desperate to be a bad guy for Reeves.
Now I’m the one facing him.
He takes a step toward me. “You haven’t tried to evict me,” he says, “because you know Green Street is more than a building now. I’ll just take the organization and move somewhere else.”
True.
“And I haven’t taken care of you,” he adds, “because…”
“Because what end does that serve?” I fire back. “If you can so easily move, then what hold on you do I really have?”
“Exactly.” Light glints in his gelled hair. “I didn’t see you as a legitimate threat.”
I’m not sure how I feel hearing that. I want to be a threat to him.
“That is, until you started throwing your weight around,” he goes on. “Showing up in Weston, your little piece of ass taking over sacred ground on Knock Hill, and you ordering my people about as if you’re back in charge.”
“I was never in charge.”
“That’s not how they see it,” he snarls. “In their eyes, I’m the usurper.”
Most of those people have no memory of me there. They just know their lives haven’t gotten better under Drew or Hugo, and they think the college boy who owns the building can do better.
I shrug. “You can’t be worse for them than Reeves.”
“I might be.” He shifts his eyes to Farrow, his gaze hardening. “But of course, I don’t have the allure of being an original member.”
“So, what…” I ask. “I give you Green Street and promise never to go into Weston? It’ll never happen.”
Not with Quinn living there now.
But he shakes his head. “It’s too late for that. The women will follow you. The mothers, sisters, and wives…and my girls.”
I go still, noticing the possessive way he says it, but knowing he’s not referring to his family or his girlfriends. He’s talking about his strippers and escorts and their families. Some might remember me from when they were younger and hanging around, and others might think any change is better than Hugo.
“They would crawl to you if you asked.” His jaw twitches. “And without the women, I can’t hold it.”
“I’m not looking to step into your shoes.”