Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Might be best to place an order now,” I suggested. “Get it dropped off at our building before we head to the safe house. I don’t remember how close a pet store is.”
“I can do that,” she said, reaching for her phone.
“I’ll take him out back for a few,” I offered, reaching for Goya’s leash.
“Thanks,” she said, already distracted by the options.
Half an hour later, we were back at her place after quickly stopping at mine to pack a bag.
“Might as well get used to it here,” I told Goya as Blair rushed around to pack her things. “She’s already in love with you. You lucky fuck.”
“Okay. Um. I know it’s a lot. But I just… I didn’t know what I would need,” Blair said, coming out with a large rolling suitcase with another bag attached to the bag. And a weekender bag on her shoulder.
“Seems like a reasonable amount.”
“Should I worry about the food in my fridge?”
“If we’re away longer than expected, I can pop back and clean it out. You should grab your syrup, though.”
“Oh, good idea,” she said, grabbing the syrup, sticking it in a plastic bag, then shoving it into her weekender.
“You ready?”
“To go hide out in a safe house because criminals might want to kill me?” she asked, shaking her head. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
It wasn’t until we had all our shit shoved into a taxi trunk and were both sitting on either side of Goya in the backseat that I finally realized what was about to happen.
I was about to be in a small apartment with Blair.
For days on end.
With little to no privacy.
And my slippery grip on my self-control.
I couldn’t tell if I was worried, or fucking over the moon, about that.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Blair
I was in the backseat of a cab on my way to a safe house with my new dog.
Had you told me even a couple of hours earlier either of those things, I would have told you you were crazy.
But now both were a reality.
And I was… a little numb about it all.
Who could blame me? I’d just been in a room full of organized crime members who were furious about what had been found in my home thanks to my dead husband.
The only way I got through that was to just disconnect.
I knew it was all going to settle in eventually. But I was hoping it might happen behind a closed and locked door at the safe house.
“We will feed you as soon as we get there, buddy,” I told Goya, who was trying to chew on the bag of dog food I’d ordered.
“You can drop us here,” Nico said when the driver pulled down a street somewhere in the East Village.
Nico paid and tipped. And it must have been good because the driver eagerly helped us figure out how to stack and carry all our things before driving off.
“We have to walk a couple of blocks. Sorry,” he said, wincing. “But I didn’t want anyone to know exactly where to find us. The only people who do are my brothers. And you couldn’t torture that information out of them.”
He said that so casually.
But I was suddenly struck with how that could be a reality. Any one of those men I met today (or their wives or kids) could end up hurt because of what Matthew had done.
“Nico?” I asked as we walked.
“Yeah?”
“Are all the others okay? The women and kids?”
“Trust me, those women and kids are the most protected people in the city right now.”
“Good.”
“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart,” Nico told me. “Trust me, we’ve been through a lot of shit over the years. We always come out on top. I’m not gonna let Matt be what brings us down. This is us,” he said, nodding toward a convenience store. “We have to hoof it. There’s no elevator.”
It was only two floors up, but by the time we made it, dragging all our things and Goya’s new belongings, we were both huffing and sweaty.
There was only one apartment per level, and the hallway the safe house was located in was looking pretty shabby and abandoned. I made a mental note to give it a sweep if we had a broom as Nico unlocked the door.
“No cameras?” I asked.
“There is one over in the corner there,” he said, gesturing toward the staircase that went both up and down. “But I can always add some new ones in if we decide we need it.”
“Okay,” I agreed as he reached inward, flicking on the light to… a somewhat tragic apartment.
“Shit. This is worse than I remember,” Nico said, shooting me an apologetic look.
“It’s warm,” I said, waving the front of my shirt to try to cool myself down.
“That I can fix,” he said, dropping what he was holding to go over and fiddle with the ancient thermostat.