Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Fuck you,” Jerrie calls out, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I have to get married and have kids,” I say, the beat of the bass starting to give me a headache. “That shit takes time.”
Little Ricky grins at me as if I said the funniest thing. “You…get married? Who’s the unlucky woman gonna be?”
“Fuck you.”
“You and Jerrie should be so lucky,” he smartmouths me.
Suddenly the tempo of the beat climbs, and it makes me instantly irritated. When I stand up, Little Ricky’s eyes widen. “Whoa, I was joking.”
Turning to the DJ, I shout, “Turn off that shit before I kill you.”
The guy, who’s in his early twenties, startles, and the next instant the music stops and all I can hear is the sharp clack of high heels on the stage.
“Everyone out,” I shout angrily.
“Move!” Jerrie ushers the women off stage while shooting me a worried look.
When I sit down again and swallow the rest of the whiskey in one go, Little Ricky lifts a questioning eyebrow at me.
“Eat so we can leave,” I grumble, the irritation still crawling beneath my skin.
“You should let me handle the club,” he says, his tone soft because he knows the slightest thing will set me off right now. “You’ve gotten worse with the noise shit over the years. Too much going on around you, and you go from irritated to homicidal in seconds.”
“Don’t start.” I level him with a scowl before I get up and walk to the main doors. “Either you come now, or I’m leaving without you.”
I hear his chair scrape over the floor, and the next moment, the box of buffalo wings is shoved into my hands.
“Seriously?” I mutter.
“Yep. I’ll eat the rest at the shipping yard.”
If it were any of my lower-level guys, he’d be dead, but because it’s Little Ricky, I carry his food so his hands are free in case of an ambush.
Just as we step onto the curb, someone comes barreling toward us from the right. Just as the person is about to collide with me, Little Ricky draws his gun, and the next second there’s a panicked squeak as he slams a woman up against the wall.
It all happens in a matter of seconds, and by the time Little Ricky and I realize we might have overreacted, the woman looks terrified while she tries to wiggle free from Little Ricky’s huge hand wrapped around her slender neck.
“Christ!” He lets go and bounces back, then his face turns beet red. “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Her hands fly up to her throat, and while she gasps for air, her huge eyes flit between Little Ricky and me.
That’s when I recognize her. The breathtaking work of art from the other night.
The first time our eyes met, she looked at me like I was just another guy she couldn’t be bothered with. The second time, her cheeks flushed pink and she flitted away. I couldn’t stop thinking about her the whole fucking night.
I take in her blonde hair that looks like spun gold and the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
Fuck, she’s exquisite.
Dumbstruck by being so close to her, I remain glued to the spot when she darts away, flitting into the road without checking to make sure it’s safe.
A horn blares and my heart stutters in my chest as a car slams on its brakes. Luckily, the driver stops in time, but then he leans out the window and shouts, “Watch where you’re going, crazy fucking bitch!”
Anger shoots through me, and while I glare at the asshole, the woman glances over her shoulder. Her terror-filled eyes lock on my face, then she runs even faster down the sidewalk before darting into an office.
Mitchell’s Construction.
“Fuck.” Little Ricky’s tone sounds as stunned as I feel. “The car almost hit her.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Rosie’s number. The Cosa Nostra’s hacker will be able to find out who the butterfly is that flitted into my life.
“Master of the universe speaking,” Rosie answers.
“There was a blonde woman outside my club a minute ago. I want to know who she is.”
“Give me a sec. Let me pull up the footage.” A heartbeat later, Rosie says, “Jesus, Little Ricky wasn’t playing around. Oooh, look at you being all stunned. She’s so pretty! Was it love at first sight? Has the great Adriano Rizzo bitten the bullet? Are…”
“Rosie,” I growl.
“Pfft…you’re no fun. Give me two minutes. I’m running facial recognition.”
“Text me everything you find on her,” I say, then add, “Thanks, Rosie.”
“You’re welcome, grumpy,” she chirps.
As I end the call, Little Ricky opens the back door, and I get in. I set his food down beside me, then glance at the construction company again.
She probably works there.
The SUV dips when Little Ricky climbs in behind the steering wheel. “I think it was a simple accident that she ran into us. Why are you doing a check on the woman?”