Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“We’re looking into it. But in the meantime, I need some head-knocking.”
“Owners?”
“For now,” Cosimo said, jaw ticking, annoyed that anyone would go behind his back.
“Alright. How big is this crew… sorry,” I said when my phone started to ring in my pocket.
I was just reaching for it to silence it since no phone call was more important than talking to your capo when he was right in front of you. But when I saw Zeno’s name on the screen, something had my stomach twisting.
“Do you mind?” I asked.
Cosimo shrugged as I swiped the screen.
“What’s—“
“Max ran off,” Zeno said, sounding like he was running, his breath coming out fast and shallow.
“What? What are you talking about?” I asked, stomach starting to twist.
“She was making a phone call… then she just… flew out of here. Didn’t say anything.”
She said she was going to call Lil.
Even if Lil had information, Max was too smart to run out of there alone to meet with her.
Something was wrong.
Lil was in trouble.
“Tell me you’re with her,” I said, knowing Cosimo was watching me, but not giving a fuck as I turned and ran.
“She was too fast. I’m on the street, but I don’t know where I’m going.”
I was closer anyway.
But I rattled off the address for him, wanting backup just in case shit was really bad.
“I’m ten minutes out, max,” I told Zeno before hanging up and focusing on pushing my body harder and faster, not caring who I rammed into on the way, or how many car horns blew at me when I rushed across the crosswalks when the signs were red.
It felt like it took a fucking lifetime, my mind racing with images of horrible things happening to Max. Hands on her. New bruises and cuts to heal.
Or…
No.
Nope, I refused to imagine losing her. Not when I was just starting to have her to myself.
My lungs were burning when I finally saw Lil’s building.
I flew at it, ramming my fists into the wood when the knob wouldn’t budge.
“Max!” I yelled loud enough to make a trio of pigeons startle and fly off.
“Max,” I called again, ready to reach for my gun, to shoot off the fucking knob if I had to, consequences be damned.
But then the locks slid.
The door opened.
And there she was.
With Lil’s cannon in her hand.
“Sugar,” I said, the relief nearly enough to bring me to my knees as my hand went around her, hauling her to my chest. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she said, voice a little tight until I realized I was crushing her. I loosened my hold, and she moved back. “But Lil…” she added, moving to the side to wave toward the apartment.
The place was wrecked. Furniture overturned, gems scattered all around, drops and streaks of blood on the floors and walls.
In the center of all of it was Lil, seated on her rolling chair, beat to fucking hell.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, taking a step inward when I heard footsteps behind me.
Max heard it at the same time, body stiffening, gun raising.
I reached out, pushing her wrist down, as Zeno came in the door. Still in his ugly sleep pants and oversized tee. But now with taco slippers on his feet.
And, I noticed, the glint of a gun poked out from his too-long sleeve.
“It’s okay. It’s just Zeno,” I told Max as I carefully pulled the gun from her hand.
She was trembling.
I didn’t know if it was fear, anger, or just the adrenaline that had no place to go.
I pulled her to my side as Zeno came in, closing and locking the door.
“Zeno, can you call Salvatore?” I asked as I approached Lil, more worried about the blood I saw on her than I was willing to tell Max. “Heya, Lil. How’re you feeling?” I asked.
“Pissed,” she admitted, chin jutting.
“I bet. Can I?” I asked, gesturing toward her face.
She gave me a small nod, and I carefully prodded around her nose and eye sockets, where the swelling and bruising looked worse.
Zeno moved in, finished with his call, and used the flashlight on his phone to give me more light to inspect the wound on Lil’s head.
“Oh, God,” Max whimpered, turning away.
“It’s alright,” I said automatically as I pulled apart Lil’s blood-soaked hair.
“It doesn’t look alright.”
“Head wounds bleed like a motherfucker,” I told her. “How far out was Sal?” I asked Zeno.
“He said he just needed to grab his kit. Twenty minutes, max.”
In the meantime, Zeno and I carefully wiped away as much blood as possible as Max put ice into bags for Lil to hold to her face and ribs while Max held one onto her worryingly swollen knee.
“It’s Sal,” Salvatore called through the door, making me move away from Lil to answer. “How is she?”
“It’s not great. But I’m trying not to worry anyone. She’s gonna need scans.”