Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
He makes the offer with quiet respect—like he understands I wouldn’t hang my club’s colors just anywhere. Not because he’s uncomfortable having a biker repping his gym.
“Thanks. I got this, really. Go scare the piss out of those delivery guys.”
He growls an unhappy sound and rushes out the back door. “Thanks,” he calls over his shoulder.
I push my way into his office and hang up my cut on a hook behind the door. I take one look at the stack of nerdy polo shirts with the embroidered Strike Back logo on the chest pocket and decide my jeans and flannel will do just fine.
On my way out, I close the door behind me, then take a slow lap around the place. The guy who’d been busy doing chin-ups before has moved on to knocking out a brutal set of push-ups.
Sully’s upgraded some of the equipment in one of the rooms. I check out the new stuff, then return to the front desk.
The quiet’s almost suffocating. Allows my brain too much room to gnaw on the fact that I dipped out of Margot’s place before she woke up, and that I’m avoiding my brother. I have to fix one of those problems before I attempt to repair the other.
I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text.
Me: Can we get together this afternoon?
He responds right away, like he’s been gripping his phone, waiting for me to reach out.
Cain: Yeah. Any time.
I send him a time and offer to meet him at the hotel—figuring I know this area better than he does.
He answers with a thumbs-up emoji.
Typical. Setting aside my annoyance at an emoji response—he’s seventeen, after all, I toss my phone on the counter and scrub my hands over my face.
I’m flipping through the local paper and stop at an article on the second page.
Man Wearing Clown Mask Arrested After Jewelry Store Robbery in Johnsonville
Clown mask. I blink. No way that’s real.
But it is.
JOHNSONVILLE, NY — A 34-year-old Long Island man was arrested Thursday afternoon after allegedly robbing Sandfire Family Jewelers while wearing a rubber clown mask.
Police say the suspect entered the store around 2:15 p.m., brandished a hammer, and smashed several display cases before filling a backpack with jewelry. Witnesses reported the suspect fled on foot.
Officers located the man hours later at the Sunset Taproom, less than two blocks away. He was still wearing the same clown mask pushed up on his head, according to multiple witnesses.
“He ordered a drink like nothing was wrong,” one bartender said. “We thought he was just a weird dude.”
Several pieces of jewelry matching the store’s inventory, worth thousands of dollars, were recovered from the suspect’s backpack. Police also found multiple baggies containing substances believed to be methamphetamine and fentanyl as well as hundreds of dollars in small bills.
The suspect is currently being held at the Johnson County Jail pending formal charges.
At first, it’s amusing—another case of criminals doing dumb shit. But the drugs and cash? Not as amusing.
Sounds like a dealer. And no one should be running that shit through our territory. He’s probably just a dumbass, not a major player. But he has to answer to someone.
I tear the article out, fold it into a square, and tuck it in my pocket.
Might as well bring it up at church later.
The front door swishes open, the overhead chime giving an annoyingly cheerful ding. I set the paper down and glance up, my gaze landing on Remy in running pants, a sweat-soaked shirt and road-worn sneakers.
Not in the mood to deal with him. “Did you run all the way here?”
He stops short and stares at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Sully needed to run home.” I walk around to the front of the desk. “I said I’d watch the place for him.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Keep the riffraff out.”
He snorts and gives me a pointed look. “Too late.”
“Aren’t you clever.”
He rests his hands on his hips and blows out a breath. “Can you not bust my nuts today? I’ve already had a shit morning.” He points to his sneakers with both fingers. “Molly’s pissed at me. Left behind a parting prank before heading back to school. I’ve been finding wads of paper stuffed in the toes of my sneakers all week long.”
Laughter explodes out of me. “I knew I liked that kid.”
“She hit literally every pair of shoes I own.” He laughs with me. “I had it coming, but still.”
“At least you admit it.”
“Yeah, to you.” He taps his chest. “As her big brother, I gotta maintain the illusion that I’m always right.”
That lands harder than it should, wiping the last traces of humor off my face.
Jezzie and I will never have a playful, play-pranks-on-each-other kind of relationship.
Cain and I sure won’t either. Hell, if we do, it won’t be something cute like paper in my shoes. Probably more like shards of glass in my coffee.