Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Scythe shook his head, making her wonder.
“Does that mean no, you’re not a firefighter?”
“Fuck, woman. You are exasperating!”
Winnie blinked away the tears that filled her eyes at his harsh assessment and whispered, “Sorry.” She didn’t expect a response from him. Inferno was so loud, he’d never hear her apology, but she needed to tell him. Somehow, she rubbed people wrong, despite her best intentions.
She forced herself to stay quiet as he opened the door and carried her through into a dark office lit only by the bank of windows, providing a bird’s eye view of the bustling bar floor. A heavily tattooed man looked up from a pile of papers on his desk to stare at them. Thankfully, Winnie was relieved of having to talk as Scythe set her down on the troublesome shoes.
“Yes?” Lucien asked.
His voice made Winnie shiver. He sounded like a man who could rip off her ears and eat them in front of her. Maybe this was a bad idea. She forced herself to stand straight and tugged the borrowed dress into place. Unfortunately, one of the straps had hooked on the metal buckle at the bottom of Scythe’s leather jacket.
Winnie tried to help, but Scythe lifted her hands away with the instruction, “Let me do it.” She stood, patiently waiting for long seconds before he freed himself.
“Thank you, Winnifred,” Scythe said quietly, meeting her eyes without the angry glare that had shone from his eyes all night.
“Winnie,” she corrected him.
“I don’t want to interrupt this sweet moment, but this is my office. Scythe, is this your Little….”
Scythe jumped in to stop him with a shake of his head. “This is Winnifred, Winnie, Bradley.” He recited her address and added, “She came to see you after someone recommended that you would buy a collection of firearms.”
“You have an excellent memory,” Winnie commended him. “You saw my ID for thirty seconds and you remember all that?”
“Who?” Lucien barked.
“She hasn’t told me yet.”
Both men studied Winnie. She swallowed hard. This was worse than the meeting with the principal and the angry father last week. Time for Super Winnie. She pulled on her professional personality and smiled. “Who?”
“Who recommended you come to see me about guns?” Lucien asked, before looking at Scythe to demand, “Did you check her for wires?”
“That outfit would make wires hard to hide,” Scythe pointed out before confiscating her small phone wallet and flipping through it.
“Hey. You can’t do that,” Winnie protested.
“Better him than me,” Lucien said with a searing glare. “Who gave you my name?”
“Pull up the photo you showed me,” Scythe directed, removing the phone from the wallet. He knelt at her feet to unfasten her shoes. A secret part of Winnie loved having him taking care of her. A sudden flash of a scene from one of those naughty books she devoured like candy popped into her mind.
“Well?” Lucien drew her attention back to him.
“My uncle, Stanley, suggested you. He said you’re an arms dealer who’s been buying up everyone’s guns.” Winnie threw her relative under the bus.
“Stanley Bradley?” Lucien asked, making a note.
“Underhall. Stanley Underhall. He’s dead now.” She stopped and sniffed sadly before pulling herself together to continue. “He died with my stepfather in a tragic barbecue grill explosion. It might sound like a joke, but it wasn’t.”
“The photo,” Scythe reminded her as he lifted one foot and then the other to remove her shoes.
Winnie whispered, “Thank you,” before sighing with relief as her toes curled into the thick carpet. He might try to be a meanie, but she suspected Scythe concealed a very sweet side from the world.
When he rose to loom over her staring, Winnie remembered what he’d asked her to do. She opened her phone and located the picture as Scythe stood. He tossed her shoes onto one of the chairs in front of Lucien’s desk before stripping the phone out of her hand and passing it to Lucien.
“A flamethrower?” Lucien asked in disbelief.
“That’s not the photo she showed me. Scroll,” Scythe suggested as he threaded his fingers through Winnie’s hair.
“Hey! It took a lot of hair spray to create this look!” Winnie protested, whacking at his hands. He didn’t even pause.
“She’s clean, boss.”
“Where is this collection?” Lucien asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out if you’re interested,” Winnie told him pertly. She second-guessed her refusal to answer when Lucien drew his eyebrows together in a glower that could have made one of the dominant heroes from her spicy romances shake in their boots.
“Oh, I’m interested,” Lucien confirmed.
Lucien glanced toward Scythe. Winnie wished she could read either man’s expressions. She suspected that pointed look exchanged a lot of information.
“It’s at my mother’s house. I’d just give it to you, but….”
“How many trucks do we need?” Lucien asked.
“Trucks?” she repeated, not following him.
“To retrieve the guns. How many truckloads will it take?”