Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Except that wasn’t her world anymore.
This was.
The sea air cleared some of the static in her head. She’d spent her entire life in Boston, but the ocean felt different on this coast. Wild. Free. Vast beyond comprehension. She slipped off her shoes and dug her toes into the sand.
Callaway Rock was about three miles from one side of the town limits to the other, all of it stretched out along the beach. The little house where she was living was on the southern outskirts, and the diner was smack dab in the middle. It might have been smarter to drive over, but she liked the walk. There might come a time when she didn’t crave the sand beneath her feet and the ocean breeze in her face, but that day wasn’t today.
Two weeks ago, she’d been in the middle of humid eighty-degree weather in Boston, but here it could have been fall instead of early August. The air had a crispness that never seemed to go away, no matter the time of day. Even though it was warm enough that she wished for a tank top, the breeze coming off the water made it downright pleasant.
Everything about Callaway Rock was downright pleasant.
Her shoes dangling from her fingertips, she started walking, letting her mind wander. The last week had been the first time she had truly lived alone, and the learning curve was…strange. There were so many little things she’d taken for granted, things she’d never bothered with because the O’Malleys had a full-time staff to do everything from cooking to cleaning.
It turned out Sloan wasn’t much of a cook.
I’ll figure it out. All I have is time.
All she’d ever wanted to do was get away from life as the daughter of an Irish crime lord, to remove herself from the playing field where she’d never have control. And she had, with Teague’s help.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t turn off her brain, and she kept wondering how Keira was doing, and if Aiden was holding up under the increasing pressure as heir to one-third of Boston’s underworld: O’Malleys, Sheridans, Hallorans. And Cillian. Last she’d heard, he’d been off in Connecticut with that woman. Had things turned out? They must have, because if something had happened to Cillian, Teague would have called her.
She hoped.
She trailed off to a stop, staring blindly at the tide coming in. Then there was Carrigan. Her big sister. The one she couldn’t quite forgive, no matter how much time or distance was between them. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, but Sloan couldn’t let her betrayal go.
Maybe someday…
She inhaled deeply and started walking again. Thinking about her five remaining siblings, wondering what they were up to, wasn’t going to do her a single bit of good. And thinking about Devlin, rotting away six feet beneath the ground…That way lay madness.
Up ahead, the bright green door of her house came into view. Well, technically it wasn’t her house. Teague’s wife, Callie, had gotten her aunt to agree to let Sloan live there. Sloan had woken every morning for the last seven days thinking that would be the day when Sorcha showed up, but the woman hadn’t shown up. It was more than a little strange that she’d agreed to give Sloan a place to stay and then not been there upon her arrival. The only contact she’d had from the woman was a text from a random number saying to make herself at home. When she’d texted back, there had been no reply.
Frankly, a part of Sloan was relieved Sorcha hadn’t made an appearance. She didn’t know much about the woman except that she owned this house and seemed willing to do her niece a favor by housing Sloan indefinitely.
Against her better judgment, her gaze drifted to the house directly north of hers. She’d mistakenly gone there her first night in town, and her encounter with the surly man who lived there still made her shiver. Jude. He’d been like a junkyard dog guarding his territory, more interested in getting her off his property than hearing her out about an honest mistake.
If she never ran into him again, it would be too soon.
Still…She couldn’t help being a little curious. Nearly every other local she’d come across had been friendly and welcoming. When they learned she was in the old O’Connor house, they always perked up and prodded her for more information, but wasn’t that what small towns were known for? Everyone took care of everyone else, and if there was a bit of gossip involved, that was to be expected.
It just made Jude’s horrible attitude stand out even more. He didn’t care where she came from, didn’t care what she was doing in town, didn’t care about anything but getting her away from his house.
If she were a more curious woman, she’d wonder if he was hiding something behind those closed curtains and barred shutters. Who owns a beach house and keeps all the windows blocked?