Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“We need to find someone close to Patrick who’ll talk or turn on him,” Regent said.
“We’ll find someone. And when we do, I’ll get him to co-operate.”
That’s what he did best, right?
“I know you will. But you know you don’t have to, right? You mean more to us than your ability to make someone talk. To make a rapist pay by pulverizing him. You don’t have to get your hands dirty.”
“Sure.”
Regent sighed. “Glad we cleared that up.”
The rest of the drive home was in awkward silence. Victor stared at the huge house that held more bad memories than good. At least for him. Regent seemed to like this place. Lottie had shut herself up in here for years, hiding from her demons, from the world. Not that he blamed her.
He clenched his hands into fists as he remembered everything she’d been through. They should have protected her better.
He’d failed her.
He glanced at the time. He still had a few hours to get some sleep before he was needed elsewhere.
“You’re going to bed?” Regent asked as they walked into the dark house.
“Yep.”
“And you’ll be leaving again at four-thirty?”
He stiffened. He hadn’t been aware that his oldest brother had noticed him leaving every morning.
“Yep.”
“And you’ll return by eight?”
“Is there a problem?” He turned on the stairs to look at Regent. “Did you need me for something?”
“At that hour of the morning? God no.” Regent had always been a night owl. “But you can’t keep surviving on a few hours’ sleep.”
“I’m not going to slip up and make a mistake,” he growled. “I’m fine.”
Regent ran his hand over his face, looking tired. “I’m not saying that you’re going to make a mistake, brother. I’m worried about you. Someone could get to you.”
Victor scowled. “I’d like to see them try. I’m a grown man. I can look after myself. You’re just looking for someone to cluck over like an old hen now that Lottie is gone. I don’t need the overprotective shit, Regent.”
Regent threw his hands up in the air. “Sorry for caring. I’ll stop clucking.”
“Good. Why don’t you go visit Lottie? You can fuss all over her until Liam kicks your ass.”
“Liam will never be able to kick my ass,” Regent growled. “Where’s the brotherly loyalty?”
“Go see Jardin if you want that.”
“And what would I come to you for?” Regent asked, sounding disgruntled.
“You come to me if you want brute force or someone to help bury the body. You know that.”
A few hours later, he stood in the shadows and waited.
Like clockwork, the tiny red car rattled its way into the parking lot.
He frowned at the funny noise it was making. That wasn’t usual. Had she gotten that looked at? If there was something wrong, then it could break down on her when she was driving around at five in the morning.
That wasn’t safe.
But then nothing she did was with her own safety in mind. She parked in a parking lot that was an entire block away from her bakery, Make It Sweet, when there were perfectly good spots behind the building she could use. But no, she left those for her customers.
Instead, she parked here, paid a monthly parking fee that he wasn’t certain she couldn’t afford, and walked in the dark to the bakery.
At least he’d gotten the city to do their fucking job and fix all the streetlamps. It was easy to get shit done when you had the right sorts of tools to work with.
In this case, a video of a councilman having an illicit affair with his son’s teacher.
Yep, these lights had gotten fixed surprisingly fast, along with the cracks in the road.
Sometimes it seemed like no one in this town was innocent.
Except for her.
Gracen.
She was gorgeous. Petite, but with curves that made his mouth water. She’d look ridiculous next to him. He towered over her, and he was too brutish, too violent to ever touch anyone so precious.
But that didn’t keep him from keeping an eye on her. Someone had to. A few weeks after he started watching her, he’d stopped some asshole from trying to mug her—or worse. He’d grabbed the guy, dragged him into an alley, and taken care of him.
Bastard didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as his angel.
Neither do you.
No, but at least he knew it. And he was doing what he could to keep her safe. He was burning himself out, but there was no way he’d stop. Because if something happened to her, no one in New Orleans would be safe from his wrath.
He suddenly realized that she’d stopped. Fuck. He was too close to her. He froze. Logically, he knew he was hidden in the shadows. But if she looked closely enough she might make out a hint of him standing there, watching her.
And then it would be all over.