Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Neither woman acknowledged me.
“Um, excuse me.” I smiled, hoping that would get them to look.
They didn’t.
“Hello?” I asked. “I’m ready to check out.”
Still nothing.
I felt more than saw Haze coming up behind me, and both women definitely acknowledged Haze as he came up behind me, caging me in. Both of his solid arms barred me in front of both sides as his large hands came to a rest against the counter on either side of my hips.
“Can you check her out so we can leave?” Haze grumbled darkly.
The woman that’d been talking Dima up from across the counter earlier jumped to do his bidding. “Of course, sir.”
Haze’s face came close to my ear as he complained softly, “Fuckin’ bitch.”
I snorted a laugh, causing the woman to finally glance at me.
We made eye contact, and I could see the clear disgust in her eyes.
She thought I wasn’t good enough for Haze.
It was plain as day to see.
I lifted my hand and curled it around his large bicep, my fingers digging into the flesh of his arm as I did.
His arm flexed, and he growled something into my ear that sounded distinctly like “you’re killing me.”
My gaze was so focused on the venom in the woman’s eyes in front of me that I didn’t hear exactly what he’d said.
The phone rang on the counter, and the second woman who’d been drooling over Haze but not actually doing anything, absently answered it with a distracted “hello.”
Her body went stiff, and she looked up at the cameras in the corner of the room, and then said, “Yes, yes, ma’am.”
The boss.
I wondered if she’d hung up with me to call them.
“I have this, Desiree,” the woman who carefully hung up the phone said. “The boss would like you to wait in her office. She’s on her way.”
This “Desiree” frowned and left the woman to check me out.
Which she did seconds later, though she didn’t charge me a dime.
“Have a good day, ma’am.” She looked at me warily.
I smiled and took the purchase, then Haze caught my hand and started leading me to the door where Dima was texting on his phone.
Likely contacting Shasha, if I had to guess.
“I hate that my kid shares a name with that nasty bitch,” Haze grumbled as I reached for my phone to see that the boss had, indeed, hung up.
I didn’t blame her.
I looked over at Haze and said, “It’s a beautiful name, Haze. Don’t let her take that away from you.”
“I won’t, but still. I can’t believe people like that actually get this far in life with having such disgusting attitudes,” he grumbled. “This is why I hate being a police officer. It’s like every day, you have to deal with nastiness like that and you’re expected to remain the better person. But fuck, sometimes being the better person is the wrong answer.”
“Welcome to the dark side,” Dima said upon us reaching him. “It’s a lot better over here. You don’t have to deal with bullshit being shoved down your throat.”
I handed Dima the keys to the Jeep and said, “Meet us at Jack’s.”
Dima didn’t have to ask where Jack’s was.
Everyone knew the place.
It was the unofficial, official “neutral ground” for everyone that was anyone in the area.
And, of course, Shasha shared ownership of Jack’s with Paul Green, who funny enough, had no “Jack” in his name.
When he’d first wanted to open the business, he’d been working as a chef in an upscale kitchen in Dallas. He was the husband of our housekeeper, Polina. One day, when Paul and Shasha had been talking, Paul expressed how unhappy he was with his life, and Shasha had urged him to open his own business.
Paul had, and now it was the “it” place in the DFW metroplex and one of the most sought-after delis in town.
Oh, and they were also very discreet.
Which likely was why Haze had suggested it.
I knew he knew it was owned by Shasha, though.
There was no way that he hadn’t made the connection after the last month.
“Okay.” Dima eyed the two of us. “See you in five.”
Then we were both headed in separate directions.
Haze opened the door to his cruiser, and I’d just stepped inside when a feeling of wrongness overtook me.
I frowned as I looked around, spotting nothing.
My gaze came to a stop on Dima, who was standing outside the Jeep texting, and my heart stopped.
There was a very large box in the back of it that I didn’t put there.
“Haze,” I said with terror. “Stop Dima.”
Haze looked at me, then at Dima, and yelled.
Dima looked up.
He took four steps toward us when the Jeep exploded.
People are like, ‘bear with me’ and don’t even have a bear with them.
—Nastya to Haze
HAZE
Soot and ash continued to rain down as I stood with John and an FBI agent named Jefferson Evador.