Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
For fuck’s sake, O’Reilly. It’s been 6 hours. What kind of catastrophe are you expecting in 6 hours? Look after your family. I have it in hand.
Somehow his message made me feel better.
I leaned my head back, thinking of what I had said to Una. Why I had said it. I hadn’t planned it. It simply came out.
But it was the truth. I was tired of pretending. Pretending she didn’t mean what she meant to me. Pretending that I was fine with being on the fringes of her life. Worrying constantly that one day I would see her with another man. One who didn’t deserve her—who would never treat her like the queen she was. She needed to be adored, cared for, protected. Lavished with gifts and love. Fucked on a regular basis and made love to other times. And both done by a man strong enough and clever enough to know the difference.
And the only man suitable for that job was me.
I recalled waking up in the hospital, Una hovering over me, pale, scared, and panicked. I was weak and in pain, barely able to talk. Niall was a constant shadow behind her, assuring me quietly the threat had been eliminated and that Una was safe. I was in and out of it for days, the loss of blood and the length of surgery taking its toll.
When the haze began to lift, Una was there. Helpful, careful, always encouraging.
And distant. She kept her emotions in check and stayed close enough to care, but not feel. She held herself back. I hated every second of it.
I was released a week later and settled into my condo, grateful to be among familiar things. Una busied herself in the kitchen as I spoke with Niall and some other key members of my team.
“Who?” I finally was able to ask, no longer worried about prying eyes or ears.
“Diego Cortez. His brother was killed when we clashed with his gang.”
“He was killing civilians for fun,” I snarled. “In my territory. Spreading his poisonous drugs.”
Oliver, one of my head soldiers, looked grim. “He liked bloodshed. The whole gang did.”
“How many men?”
“We lost two. Grant and Simon.”
I grimaced. Both were loyal. Grant was a bachelor but had a sister. Simon was older and widowed but had two grown kids.
“We’ve taken care of the families? The funerals?”
“Everything is handled.”
“Stupid fecker. His brother was a casualty of a war he started. I didn’t go gunning for him.” I rubbed my eyes, feeling weary. “But he came after Una.”
“And paid the price.” Niall looked fierce. “The gang no longer exists, except for a few low-level foot soldiers who shit their pants and ran like children. I made sure the word was out that if they returned, death would greet them.”
I nodded, feeling exhausted already but refusing to show weakness in front of my men. “Do we expect retaliation?”
“No,” Oliver replied. “Our locals are grateful they are gone. Business is picking up again, knowing the poison is off the streets.”
I leaned my head back, shutting my eyes for a moment. I hated drugs, and we didn’t deal in them. I especially hated low-grade drugs that killed. And the people who pushed them.
Like many of my generation, I dealt in high-end, nonviolent ways of making money. I left the rest to the street gangs—as long as they stayed out of my turf. Drugs were debilitating and I wasn’t stupid enough to think none were around, but I turned a blind eye at times, knowing it was better to be aware of what was happening in order to maintain control.
I sighed. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Let it be known I’m alive, well, and still running the territory. No weakness.”
Niall chuckled. “Trust me, the rumors are already out there.”
“Good or bad?”
“That you shot five men after being shot yourself. How you walked into the hospital and refused to wait for surgery, making the doc pull the bullet from your shoulder right there.”
I had to laugh. “No anesthetic?”
“None.”
“Sounds about right,” Una spoke up from the doorway. “Superman Finn.” She clapped her hands. “Enough. He needs his rest.”
All my men deferred to her, not a single one even glancing in my direction to make sure it was all right to leave. Niall stayed behind.
“Mum needs to hear your voice. She’s pretty upset.”
“Why’d you say anything?” I groaned.
He leaned close. “We didn’t know if you’d make it, Finn. I had to ease her into it, dammit.”
“I’ll call her tonight.”
“I told her you were on the mend and in good hands. She still needs to hear you.”
“Tonight,” I promised.
“Okay.”
Una brought me some soup, helping me eat it since my arm was still taped to my body. The bullet had gone in below the shoulder on the left side. Another few inches either way, I would have been dead. As it was, it damaged some muscles and tissue and had been a bitch to get out. The stitches pulled every time I moved, and it felt as if my shoulder and chest were on fire.