Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I glanced out the window to get my bearings and shook my head. We’d moved about twenty feet. At this rate, I could run home faster.
Forty minutes later, I stepped into the elevator of my building with my duffels, the bag o’ tax-free treats for the family, a pizza, and two Red Bulls. After going through all the messages in three phones, it was clear I’d have zero time for jet lag.
I took the elevator up to the nineteenth floor and barely managed to dig out my keys without dropping the pizza.
Just around the bend— “What the fresh hell—” I came to an abrupt stop and cocked my head as soon as I recognized the form slouched on the floor next to my door. It was Shannon. Had he taken the elevator to the wrong floor? I’d helped him secure a condo a few floors below mine when he could no longer stomach the place he’d shared with Grace.
I stepped over his legs and unlocked the door, just so I could leave the pizza on the hallway table. Then I dumped the rest on the floor and shut off the security system before I squatted down next to Shan and made sure he was breathing.
“Jesus Christ, Shan.” I registered the state of his suit—tie askew, shirt wrinkled, pants stained. Mustard…? Maybe. “Shan, wake up.” I shook his shoulder lightly and grimaced. He’d been drinking. Heavily, judging by the smell of his clothes. Or he’d been missing his face and spilling it.
He grunted and lolled his head back against the wall.
I sighed and scrubbed a hand over my face.
Finn was right; this couldn’t go on. The grief was too much for one man to handle. In the span of a year, Shannon had lost his wife, his best friend, and his eldest son. His son was the most recent loss.
We all mourned them. Patrick, a fun-loving oaf. Grace…the entire syndicate’s mother. And Ian, a man Shan had served with in the military back in the day. They couldn’t be replaced. They couldn’t come back from the dead. So it left Shan here in shreds.
We mourned them, but…he’d died with them.
I doubted he’d gone into work lately. He usually kept his beard trimmed to perfection, same with his hair. He was a mess now. Far more salt than pepper in his hair too. He’d aged overnight and looked a bit older than his forty-six.
Still handsomer than the devil, though.
“All right, let’s get you off the floor, old man.” I rose to my feet again and dragged him forward so I could step behind him and hook my arms under his armpits.
“No,” he mumbled drowsily. I didn’t even pause. “M’wakin’ up early to get Kellan at the airport.”
That was sweet, but I didn’t need a lift. I also didn’t know why he’d need to “wake up early” to pick me up after I’d landed at four PM. Then again, who knew what hours he kept these days.
I hauled him over the threshold and toward the couch in the living room. I didn’t have a whole lot of space, but it was a nice home. A small two-bedroom in downtown Philly, close to everything I might need. And a lot of things I didn’t need, such as my sister who also lived in the building, though she was staying with Finn and Emilia at the moment—what with her being so close to labor and all. Much to Finn’s frustration. He and my sister had never gotten along very well.
It was just his luck that she’d become best friends with his wife.
“Fuck,” I panted. Shan was what, six foot four…? With a stocky build. Broad shoulders, thighs that looked in-fucking-credible in suit pants. “You’re no lightweight.” I grunted and heaved him up, only to drop his sorry ass on the couch. “Fuck.” Eyeing his listless form, I reluctantly changed my evening plans and knew I had to resuscitate him somehow. But first things first. I bent down and checked the inner pockets of his suit. I dug out a wallet and—yeah, there we go. A small bottle of cheap whiskey.
“Gotta bring Kellan home,” he muttered in his sleep.
I frowned, stung by sympathy and worry. This was his fear. He didn’t like being away from Finn, the only child he had left—or me, for that matter. Emilia and Luna were getting a similar treatment. Shan was scrambling. He was trying to herd his remaining family members into a room and lock us up.
My sister was a recent addition for him. Our parents hadn’t kicked Luna out; she wasn’t gay. And despite all the times she’d run away from them to be with me, they’d had her in their clutches until she turned eighteen and moved in with me permanently. And now she was pregnant, and she was Finn’s wife’s best friend; that was apparently what it took for Shan to adopt her and do everything in his power to keep her safe.