Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I sat, grateful, but didn’t let it show. “What’s the job?”
“It should be easy, for a guy like you.” He leaned toward me, elbows on his knees. “Two upstarts merged against us this past month. There’s an Irish motorcycle gang from the damn suburbs, of all places, and a group from up north that calls itself the Ragers. Together, they say their new gang’s called the Dusters, so fine, that’s their name.”
“Not a great name,” I said, shrugging. “I thought it was a joke when I first heard it.”
He smiled. “Me too, but they’re real, and they’re a pain in my ass.”
“If you’re asking me to fight your war, I’m not interested.”
He shook his head and held up his hands. “Something simpler, actually. There’s a girl that came to live with me, daughter of a capo in the Chicago family. She went through something recently, they’re having their own problems out there, and she was sent here to get away from the heat. Unfortunately, things are getting hot around here now, too.”
I thought of the girl I’d seen with the long dark hair and the intense expression. She must’ve been twenty, maybe a little older. It must’ve been the same girl he was talking about.
“Not sure what she would have to do with me.”
“I need you to be her bodyguard.”
I let that sink in for a second then burst out laughing. He stared at me, eyes hard and cold, and I knew this wasn’t a joke—but it had to be.
I wasn’t a bodyguard. I was a thief, and the occasional thug. I had a reputation for myself, sure enough, but nobody entrusted a life in my hands—much less the life of a young, beautiful girl.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head, laughter dying down. “I don’t think I can take this on.”
“I figured you’d say that, which is why I’m offering to pay you ten grand per week.”
I went still then leaned forward. My jacket came off the knife wound and I barely noticed. “Ten grand per week?”
“That’s right. It’s a lot, I know, but for good reason. She’s important, and I want to be able to trust you.”
“Ten grand per week is a lot of motivation.” I paused, eyes narrowing. “How long do you want me to work?”
“At least a month,” he said.
“Make it fifty thousand per month then.”
He laughed. “You’re negotiating?”
“You want my help, I want you to pay for it.”
Silence stretched between us. I felt the warmth of the fire as a log popped, crackled, and collapsed.
“Okay then,” he said. “Fifty thousand. Do you want to meet her?”
“Yes.” I felt a strange heat rise in my stomach as I stood.
He got to his feet and led me back out of the study. I followed him down the hall, across the stairwell landing, and down the opposite wing. We paused in front of a door midway down and he knocked once, twice, then opened it.
The room was wide and open with a bank of windows opposite. There were chairs and couches surrounding a TV mounted above a fireplace at one end, and what looked like a large dining room table at the other. A small hallway disappeared to what I assumed was a bathroom and a bedroom.
She sat curled up on a chair next to the window with her phone held up to her face. She looked up and a couple expressions flitted across her face—annoyance first, followed by surprise, and finally, curiosity. She looked at me, and I tilted my head, smiling a bit.
“Amber, this is Ren.” Vincent gestured at me. “He’s a good man. One of our best.”
I smiled at that and stepped forward. “Nice to meet you.”
She nodded at me. “You’re bleeding on my carpet.”
I frowned then cursed and shoved the jacket against the wound. Vincent laughed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll have someone clean that up, and I’ll go call Dr. Chen. He’ll fix you up.”
“The famous Dr. Chen.” I laughed, unable to help myself. “I’ve heard that name a thousand times. That man can pull a bullet from a corpse and bring it back to life.”
Vincent smiled. “Not quite, but he’s good. Stay here, get to know each other.” He looked at Amber. “Be nice. He’s going to be around for a while.”
He left without a word, shut the door behind him, and left me alone with the girl.
I turned to her and watched her for a few silent seconds. My first impressions were right: she was young, a decade younger than me, and very pretty. Her full lips were pulled into an annoyed frown and her tilted head suggested she wanted me to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. I wondered what happened in Chicago to make her have to leave, but decided not to ask.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said.