Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
He’s being very vague. Despite the intimate moment we just shared, it’s clear he still doesn’t trust me. I don’t blame him, but I’m going to need him to relax a little if I want to carry on with my mission. I have to wonder if he treats all women this way. Like at any moment they could turn around and stab him in the back. It must be exhausting.
“So are you keeping me around because you want to, or because you have to?” I ask.
“Make no bones about it.” He leans forward and captures my face in his hands. “I want to.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t say.” He shrugs. “Ye’re trouble. A wild card, Mack. But maybe I like having ye here.”
“Until you tire of me,” I add. “And then you’ll take someone on the side. Right? That’s how it works.”
I don’t know why I’m asking these things. They aren’t even important. They don’t matter. Still, I want to know.
“I can keep my cock in me pants,” he says. “And I often do until a pretty little ride like you comes along and takes it out for me.”
I scowl up at him, and he reaches down and grabs me. A moment later, I’m deposited on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around my waist.
“Mack.” He grabs the base of my neck with his fingers and rubs the skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’d have no need or want for anything else if you were lying in my bed every night.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I grumble.
“I like that ye’re possessive of me,” he says. “That turns me on, sweetheart. Because I already feel possessive as hell of you.”
Silence falls between us, and then I hear him whisper, “but I shouldn’t.”
I lean back against him and close my eyes. I know the feeling well.
“I still need to know more about you,” I tell him.
“Well, carry on then. I never told ye to stop.”
“How did you come to be in this life?”
“My father was born into it, and by birth I had rights to it as well. But my grand-da was the one to induct me.”
“When do I get to meet him?” I ask.
His hands tighten around me and his entire body goes rigid.
“Ouch,” I hiss.
“He’s dead,” he clips out. “Don’t bring it up again.”
“Sheesh, alright.”
He relaxes, and I think the time for talking has abruptly come to an end. But Lachlan surprises me when he explains a few minutes later.
“He died very recently,” he says. “And my father, when I was ten. Didn’t know much about him. He just knocked me mum up when he was back home for a visit. Sent money to keep her afloat, but this was where his life was at. My grand-da took care of me when I came here. And now Niall and the lads are my family. That’s all ye need to know about that.”
“What about your mom?”
“Dead too,” he says. “She went when I was sixteen.”
I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, and for the first time in a long time I feel something familiar between someone else other than Talia and Scarlett. This is the thing that links us. He’s an orphan too. And, like me, he did what he had to in order to survive.
I catch sight of the medal hanging against his chest, and my fingers move up to touch it.
“Saint Anthony,” I murmur.
He doesn’t reply. This medal holds some sort of significance to him. Just like the heart-shaped pendant hanging around my neck. I’m not a Catholic, but my father was, and I know enough to know exactly what this particular saint means.
“Are you worried about your soul?” I ask him.
“It depends on the day,” he answers vaguely. “Sometimes the minute. But how much time can a man in my line of work spend worrying about these things?”
He’s teasing me, using humor to deflect my question. But beneath that veneer, I can see the truth. He does worry about these things. Worries about staying human. Good and evil. His darkness.
Telling myself it’s under the pretense of softening him to my purpose, I continue to question him.
“So what does a man like Lachlan Crow want?”
He looks down at me and smiles. “Why don’t you tell me, sweetheart.”
I continue to rub circles on his palm, deciding to be honest in my observation.
“You want to please Niall. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that you want to continue his legacy. Move up in the organization. Eventually, maybe even be King of all?”
His fingers wrap around mine and squeeze. I’ve hit too close to home. His eyes are hard, glittering with suspicion again.
“Ye’re too observant for your own good,” he says. “It would be better for you if ye didn’t let onto these things, butterfly.”
“Probably,” I agree.
I refuse to let the conversation die though. I want to get answers from him while he’s willing to give them. I suspect it doesn’t happen often.
“So what kind of things do you do besides running the club?”
“I can’t tell ye that, Mack,” he says. “Even if you were my wife, ye wouldn’t know these things. It’s for your own protection.”
Wife? I clear my throat and stare at his chest, tracing my fingers over the lines of his tattoos.
“Just tell me one thing then.”
“What?”
“Do you or have you ever, dealt in trafficking women?”
“No,” he answers firmly. “Never. And we never will.”
When I look up into his eyes, I believe him. And I don’t know why. I can’t believe him. I have to be objective here. To see things logically. No matter how many conflicting feelings I have about this man, the truth is simple. Talia worked for him, and now she’s gone. There’s an explanation behind that, regardless of what he says to me. Maybe he doesn’t know it, maybe he does. Either way, I can’t trust him. Lachlan Crow is only loyal to one thing, and that is his syndicate.
“Hop up.” He pats me on the ass. “Let’s try to get some sleep. I have another long day tomorrow.”