Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
His brows spike. “Would you?”
I wouldn’t care. “Why not?”
When he sees that I’m serious, because I always fucking am, he laughs into a smile. “This can definitely be arranged—”
“Can’t you put a different word on his ass?” Jane asks, bartering for me.
I’m about to speak, Farrow is too. But we both go quiet. Noticing Tony approaching the table from my side.
I snuff out my cigarette. He has to come say hi or else Michelina will chew him out.
“Hey.” Tony checks back on the bingo caller, still not ready for the next round, then looks to Jane. “How about them Eagles, huh?” He smiles and tries to perch his hands on the back of her chair.
I extend my arm, blocking him. “No.”
If he thinks being on the team grants him access to flirt with the girls in these families—he’s out of his fucking mind.
He’s a bodyguard to a minor.
Not the over-eighteen girls, and their bodyguards will rip him the fuck apart. The only reason I’m not in his face right now is because I don’t trust myself not to punch him.
Irritation cinches his brows. “I’m part of the team. Or did you forget that?”
I stare him dead in the eye. Loudly, I say, “She’s my girlfriend , or did you fucking forget that?” People whisper and look over at us. Publicly, we’re together.
A smile tugs her cheeks. It fades fast as Tony laughs under his breath.
He stuffs his hands in his aviator jacket. “Right, right.” He has a shit-eating grin, and only audible to me, he lowers his head and says, “I see you took your balls out of her purse.”
I shake my head. “You’re a fucking scustamad’.” You’re a fucking stupid person. I raise the volume of comms, more intel coming through about outside.
Farrow puts out his cigarette and pockets the pack. He whispers in Maximoff’s ear.
Jane leans more into my side, and I wrap my arm around her waist. She tells Tony, “We’re actually about to return to our cards. The game should start soon.”
“Just stopping by to say hi.” Tony cocks his head. “Moretti knows how it is.” He glances over at Michelina, then to me. “You know whenever I think of this place, I always picture that time your brother got into a fistfight with Jay Amaro and knocked over the bingo balls. Gave an old woman a literal heart attack. Paramedics came.” He lets out a laugh. “Fuck, that was a long time ago.”
My ribs constrict, thinking about that memory. Knives cutting a single breath. Just one.
I exhale through my nose, and the weight is gone. Fifteen years in the past.
“Banks was in a fight?” Jane asks, like she can’t picture him swinging first.
Tony shakes his head. “Not Banks. Their other brother, Skylar.”
My eyes tighten.
Skylar.
Sky.
I’ve been trying to tell her about him, and I couldn’t figure out when. I’m gearing my ass up for the middle of fucking hell.
I should’ve just let it out in the costume shop earlier. Before Charlie’s phone call cut us off. Or in the car afterwards. It’s on me.
A million times, I missed the chance. I fucked it, and now Tony dropped this before I could.
Jane tips her head, thinking rapidly. Her brows bunched. Maximoff and Farrow exchange confusion.
Mostly, I watch her. “Jane—”
“None of you knew about Skylar?” Tony realizes, looking between the three of them. He lets out a light laugh.
“That’s funny?” I ask, voice strict.
He laughs more. “It’s not not funny.”
“Vaffangul’.” Fuck you. I grip my knee to keep from standing. Do not harm another bodyguard. Do not fight while on-duty. Protect your client.
Protect her.
He motions to Jane. “She’s your girlfriend and you didn’t tell her about your own brother—”
I shoot to my feet. Towering over him. Staring down. Blood rushes in my ears. Rage annihilating my senses. Until I’m hyper-focused on this shitbag.
My anger.
His face.
He spreads his arms, goading me to hit him. “I just did you a fucking favor. It’s not my fault you couldn’t man-up and say what needs to be sa—”
I have Tony by the collar. I’m five seconds from slamming his entire body into the fucking ground. Farrow is quick.
He’s already climbed over the table onto my side. He wedges himself between us and rotates to Tony. “Man, I’m sick of listening to you. Walk the fuck away.”
I pull back and I get my mind right almost instantly. Sensing her close.
I turn.
She’s standing. I assess her in one sweep. Chunky heels, a ruffled purple tutu, and a frilly blouse—she has her hand in her purse. Where her pepper spray and switchblade are contained, ready to defend me. She lets go when our eyes meet. “Thatcher.”
Nothing else matters to me right now but this girl. “Jane,” I say strongly. I come closer, my hand on her lower back. I soften my gaze on her. “You good?”