Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Rico shook his head, his shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh. “Lot of big fucking players, which is why I haven’t done anything. They’re well hidden, but I know they’re politicians. Some local and federal law enforcement, too.”
I cursed. I fucking knew it. We all knew it, but I had been hoping it wouldn’t be that bad.
“You got names?”
Rico shook his head. “No names. Like I said—well hidden. This isn’t run by amateurs. Wasn’t started by amateurs either. They flew under my radar for five fucking years.”
I grimaced. Rico ran a fucking criminal empire—his dealings were nationwide. He had his fingers dug into numerous pies. Usually, nothing happened without him knowing about it.
Chills ran down my spine at the thought of what we might be dealing with.
“You know where they’re taking the girls?”
Rico shook his head. “No, but I’ll have my men put their ears to the ground, and when I know something, I’ll let you know.” He turned to face me. “If you’re trying to take this shit down, I’ll consider that payment. Even if you fail, we’re even. Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
When he held his hand out, I shook it. He stepped back. “I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Blakely
Jax leaned against the counter, watching as I cracked numerous eggs into a big bowl to turn into scrambled eggs. Bacon was already frying in the biggest frying pan I could find. All the men had been armed with coffee to help them wake up.
I was getting used to living here, surprisingly. And I…liked it. I liked taking care of all of them so they could focus on things that needed their attention more.
Like rescuing those young girls and those women.
“I didn’t move you in here to take care of everyone,” Jax finally grunted, being his usual grumpy self.
I shrugged. “Well, obviously I’m not working at Hooked anymore.” He arched a brow at me. He and I had never discussed my job, but I figured quitting was implied. Besides, I couldn’t, in good conscience, continue wetting men’s dicks when I was in a committed relationship.
I meant it when I told Jax I was his. Every bit of me belonged to him, even if it’d taken me a minute to come around to the idea of it fully.
“Doesn’t mean you need to cook and clean for all of us either,” he rumbled.
I sighed. “It makes me happy,” I told him honestly.
He scratched at his beard before nodding, letting it go. My heart warmed. He really did just want me to be happy. Fuck, how had I gotten so lucky?
“Need help?”
I shrugged. “Can you flip the bacon?”
He pressed a kiss to my temple in answer before moving over to the frying pan and grabbing the small pair of tongs I’d been using so he could flip them over.
There was no hiding the small smile that tilted my lips as I began to whisk all the eggs in the bowl.
I was falling so, so, so hard for Jax. And I knew he was right there, waiting to catch me.
I was wiping down the kitchen counters, the last thing I needed to do before the kitchen was restored back to order, when Ace stepped into the kitchen. Ace may have been the youngest out of all the men—the baby of the brothers—but he was just as deadly. I pitied the fool who thought he wouldn’t be able to do much with his small, twinkish body.
“Can you help me?” he asked.
I frowned and nodded, tossing the Clorox wipe I’d been using into the trash. “What’s up?”
He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Normally, I pay to have someone dye my hair, but Shaw doesn’t want any of us away from the clubhouse for hours at a time, which is how long it would take to get my hair done. I have hair dye in my room. Can you teach me how to dye my own hair?”
I smiled. “Of course. I used to dye mine all the time as a teenager. I’m sure I haven’t forgotten.”
I followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, which was the last one down the hall. His room was…chaotic. He had clothes on every available surface, and a pile of clothes also rested on the right side of his bed, as if he just shoved them all there so he could still sleep without putting them away.
Shoes were scattered across the floor, and his desk was covered in pencils, pens, notebooks, and school assignments. Empty candy wrappers covered the surface of his nightstand.
“If you need help cleaning your room up,” I said, looking at him as he grabbed a plastic shopping bag from his desk chair, “I don’t mind.”
He waved me off. “If I put anything away, I can’t find it.”
Why in the world did that even make sense to me?