Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Let’s talk in private,” Ethan says, stepping forward.
“I knew I should’ve stuck with the other one,” she snaps. “My good boy Landon would never treat a lady like this.”
She struts away. I gasp, a chord of shock jolting through me. Ethan drops the bags and follows Rosita, who is babbling. I hear the word sorry at least three times before they disappear around the corner.
“She said Landon,” Mom mutters.
“I heard her,” I snap.
“Ethan said he never dated, but she said—”
“Mom.” I spin on her. “Just listen to me, please. I heard her, and I don’t want to talk about it.” When she opens her mouth to say something, I raise my hand. “It’s been about the longest day of my life. I don’t know what she meant, but I trust Landon, and that’s that.”
Mom lowers her gaze and allows a slight nod, but I can see how badly she wants to start tearing into Landon even now, despite everything he’s going through. She’s too scarred by my father, by the love-bombing crap. I wish I could say it was just her, though. I feel the same uncertainty. Why would she say that about Landon?
Ethan returns a minute later. “Sorry about that. Let me show you to your rooms.”
“Can I ask something?” Mom says.
I glare at her. I don’t want to get into this now. Landon can explain it to me himself. I meant what I said. I trust him, even if Mom doesn’t understand that.
“Where is your bathroom?” Mom asks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LANDON
“We can’t initiate combat,” Lex Hayes tells me on the phone.
I’m sitting in Grace’s living room. She and her mom are in the bedroom, sleeping. My gun is on the table, and morning sunlight filters through the curtains. There’s no sign of Damon or his cronies, not yet. I’ve called Hayes Securities, the top protection firm in the city.
“However, if we witness a crime, we’re allowed to take reasonable steps, and of course, we can protect our client, sir.”
“So you can protect me,” I mutter. “If I happen to be across the street from a mob bar, and those mobsters happen to want to start something, you’ll stick to your post?”
“The cost would increase steeply,” Lex says, “but that is something we can accommodate.”
I nod. “Then let’s talk numbers.”
For the next twenty minutes, we arrange for me to pay Lex and his men a quarter of my net worth for one week of protection. I’m not sure what I’ll do after this week is over. I sent Ethan the video I took last night, and he’s replied telling me two things: he’ll get it to his police contacts, and the ladies have settled into their rooms.
I purposefully didn’t ask any follow-up questions. I want to see Lily so bad, to hold her. My end already seemed so close because of the diagnosis, but last night, it could’ve happened at any moment. I’ve watched the video Grace took. She was only recording to stop them from doing anything stupid.
It shows me backing into the apartment, then throwing Damon out and slamming the door at the last second. Then I grab the camera and aim it through the small window. Damon gets close, slowly grinning like a horror movie villain.
“Have a good night, my friend. Enjoy it. Savor it.”
Then he stares, his implication clear. Soon, I won’t be able to savor anything.
He turns and gestures to his men, and they walk across the street.
I shut off the video, pick up my gun, toss it from hand to hand. Lex and his men are going to be here soon. They will set up a contingent in the street, around the bar, and at the rear of the apartment building. Lily and Vivian are in Ethan’s penthouse, which has round-the-clock security. There’s no way Damon would be stupid enough to attack anybody in a neighborhood that expensive.
I quickly tuck the gun under the table when the bedroom door whines open. Grace stands in the doorway, a terrified little girl trying so hard to be tough. It breaks my heart because I’ve seen that exact look before.
“Mom is still asleep.” She shuts the door behind her. “Can I braid my hair, Mister Landon?”
“You don’t have to ask, Grace.”
She sits cross-legged on the floor, yawning. She has that demeanor that many kids in her position get in my experience. She can’t imagine this not being her life. She’s calm in the chaos like Lily was … or tried to be.
“Are they coming back?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I tell her truthfully, “but I’m going to keep you and your mom safe.”
“Are you going to keep the others safe, too?” She’s looking at me in the reflection of the turned-off TV.
Maybe I should lie to her, tell her I can’t be sure, but even if she’s staring from a reflection, it’s still a plea I can’t ignore. She reminds me of why I spent so long doing pro bono work. “Yes,” I bark. “I won’t let anything happen to anyone in this building. Soon, those men will be gone, and that bar will disappear.”