Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
If literal death glares were a thing, Chuck wouldn’t make it out the door, but my rage has no real power. Because he and Miss Pigtails disappear.
The bookie chuckles, and when I swing my attention back to him, he cocks his head to the side. “Do you know what we do to people who fuck us over, little thing? And how long we take to do it?”
It was a rhetorical question, but I’m stupidly shaking my head anyway. Nathan’s not new to gambling, and I’ve seen him bloodied by a bookie in the past. Somehow, I know this is going to be much worse.
“I guess you’ll find out, then.” The bookie turns around and strides toward the exit.
The remaining crowd is silent as they watch our exchange, and my words echo off the concrete walls when I shout, “Wait!”
The bookie’s face is full of satisfaction as he turns back to me. “Yes?”
“Where are you going?”
“To find your brother and make sure he knows how serious this is.”
I swallow hard. “What would I have to do—to pay off the debt?” I’m not naïve enough to think it’s washing dishes or folding his laundry, but surely it can’t be as bad as I think. This is real life, not the movies.
The bookie relaxes a little and strides back to me. “Come with me and we’ll talk about it, ‘kay?” Before I can refuse, he wraps his rough hand around my upper arm and pulls me toward the exit opposite where Chuck disappeared.
“Let her go.”
My head snaps up, and I meet a pair of familiar gray eyes. Oliver.
“Mind your business,” the bookie says.
“It is my business,” Oliver says. He nods to the bookie’s side just as the phone there begins to ring.
The bookie releases my arm and answers the call. “Yeah?” He gives Oliver a withering look, but Oliver only lifts his chin. “Got it.” The bookie ends the call and flashes me a bitter grin. “All’s well that ends well, right?”
I look back and forth between him and Oliver as the bookie walks down the dark hall. Only once the echo of his steps fades do I dare breathe again.
“You okay?” Oliver asks, stepping closer.
I open my mouth to lie then shake my head. “No. I’m not.” Chuck conned me. And my brother left me to cover for him. I blink up at Oliver. “What just happened?”
Oliver glances in the direction that the bookie disappeared. “His boss told him to let you go.”
“Why? What about my brother? Are they going after him?”
“He’s safe.”
“How?”
He shrugs. “I know people. I called in some favors.” He looks me over slowly and cringes at the red vomit splattered on my white jeans. “Wanna get out of here?”
“What—why?”
“Because it smells like a dumpster down here and you’ve had a rough night?”
“Why did you call in favors?” Why did you come to my rescue?
“Because I need a favor from you. And anyway, I hate to see the assholes win.”
He offers me his hand, palm up, and I take it.
Part Three
PRESENT DAY
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAVVY
I’m surprised to see Alec after my six a.m. spin class the next morning. He’s sitting at a table on the restaurant’s patio with Marston. They’re both staring at their laptops with cups of coffee steaming beside them.
The second my feet hit the flagstone, Alec tears his gaze off his laptop and grins at me. “Morning, beautiful.”
Something inside of me tugs hard, as if it’s saying, There. Go there. Give him your heart, but I don’t know if it’s my heart or my loneliness, so I stand strong and give nothing but a polite smile. “How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?”
“I did, and it’s a good thing, too, because this one had me up and running before dawn,” he says, nodding to Marston. He gestures to the seat beside him. “Do you have time to join us for a cup of coffee?”
I swallow. “I was hoping we could talk in my office.”
“Sure.” He pushes out of his chair, leaving his laptop behind but taking his coffee, and I lead the way back into the building and to my small office tucked between the group workout room and the gym. “Marston knows what’s going on,” he says, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Good.” If Marston knows the truth, that means I don’t have to lie to Brinley. “I don’t want to have to lie to my friends.”
Alec turns up the wattage on his grin. “Are you saying . . .?”
“I’ll do it.” I swallow. “As long as this won’t change our friendship, if this is going to help you out, then I can do it.”
Alec beams. I haven’t seen him smile like that since the morning we separated in Vegas. We were both sad to say goodbye, and then I told him I’d come see him in L.A. In that moment, we both believed we stood a chance—despite the distance, despite any mistakes that haunted either of us. He smiled at me because he believed in us, and for a few short weeks, I did too.