Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
And there’s the bomb.
“What?” I shout as fear whooshes through me. I’ve heard the expression “turns your blood to ice” and always thought it was a poetic liberty to describe true fear. It turns out it can actually happen. Well, I’m sure my blood is still coursing through my veins, but my entire body has gone frigid, frozen in place like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car.
“Fuck,” Dominic hisses.
I don’t know a lot about Miles Conniver, mostly just the news articles that tout him as a local business hero, but there’s always a “read between the lines” vibe to everything you see about him. I do know he’s not someone to fuck with, and apparently, he thinks I have his misplaced jewelry. If I did, I’d just give it back. But I don’t.
I feel like I’m hyperventilating. Or having a panic attack. Maybe both at the same time. All I know is that I either have too much oxygen or not enough oxygen. So I pinch the middle of my nose, the pain forcing me to take a deep breath, figuring either the inhale or the exhale will help.
“What am I going to do?” I mutter. But I don’t wait for my brother or Griffin to give me the answer because I’m not really asking them. I’m asking myself. “I know, I’ll just tell him I don’t have his ring anymore. I can even give him a description of the thief. And if he gets mad at his guys for it ending up at Yesteryear, then that’s their problem. It’s not my fault they screwed up.”
It’s a good plan.
Well, except for the part where I have to talk to Miles Conniver and be the delivery person for some bad news. People do tend to shoot the messenger. Usually that’s metaphorical, but I think with Mr. Conniver, there’s a chance it might be literal.
Shit.
“No fucking way,” Dom declares, pointing a finger at me. It’s as though he heard my mental arguments against that idea too. Then he whirls on Griffin. “You’ve known this all along?”
Belatedly, I catch up to that little chicken nugget of information. “You didn’t tell me,” I say flatly, not looking Griffin in the eye but rather staring at the wood floor. He knew from the beginning that these guys were dangerous, and he’s protected me from them, which is sweet. But he also put me at risk by not telling me that I was in very real danger, and that’s some bullshit. If I’d known the damn Mob was after me, I wouldn’t have gone to see Mad Dog by myself. I wouldn’t have gone to the post office by myself. I would’ve made so many different choices, about so many different things, over the last couple of weeks.
Okay, I probably would’ve done some of those things, because I’m stubborn, but I would’ve done them with the understanding that it was stupid. I wouldn’t have been wandering around the city all willy-nilly, thinking life was hunky-dory other than a stolen ring.
Griffin reaches out to me. “I should’ve told you, but I thought I could protect you from them. I didn’t want you to—”
I jerk away from him, staring at him disbelievingly. I don’t know what he’s about to say. It doesn’t matter. He kept vital, life-altering information from me, again.
“You should’ve told me. You should’ve told me how you felt a long time ago. You should’ve told me about this as soon as it happened.” Shaking my head, I say, “I want to try, Griffin. But this . . . I can’t be with someone who thinks they need to shield me from every little thing like I can’t handle reality. Despite what my brother thinks”—I send him a glare, too, because he’s created this cursed bubble around me—“I do not need protecting. I can handle myself and whatever catastrophe I get myself into. Been doing it for twenty-five years and plan to keep on doing it.”
“Penny,” Griffin says, recoiling. The hurt is written all over his face, his eyes filled with sadness. But I’m hurt too—hurt that he thinks I’m so weak.
“You heard her. You need to go,” Dominic says as he steps up to my side.
But I move away, putting space between myself and both guys. “Both of you, get out,” I order.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Dominic scoffs, plopping himself on my couch and crossing one ankle over the other knee, making himself at home. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t know anything about this, and if there are Mob guys out there trying to find out where you live, I’m not leaving you alone here. You can be as mad as you want, but I’m not leaving. Unless you’re coming with me to my place.”
Reluctantly, I admit to myself that he has a point. I do need to be smart about my safety and not just reactive. But I need a minute away from Griffin to process.