Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Paranoia had me constantly looking out the windows to keep an eye on the moving truck to make sure no one was snooping or fucking hooking it up to bring it to impound.
By the time the toys were sorted for the morning crew—since there was no way, with a body to hide that I would be able to come back to do it—morning had dawned on the city. A gray, bleak one, but morning nonetheless.
I’d just closed up the truck cab when a cab pulled up to deposit the driver, now with a part of his head shaved, and little pointy stitches poking out of his scalp.
He looked as tired as I felt.
“All good, man?”
“Just some stitches and a wife worried enough about me that I will be able to sit on my ass for a week straight when I get home.”
“Gotta look for the silver linings,” I said, nodding.
“That’s what I’m saying. Did you get everything out?” I lifted the back door to show him. “Good, good. Well, thanks for your help…”
“Craig,” I said.
“Craig. Appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it, man. Get yourself home safe, yeah?” I asked, clapping him on the back of the neck as he reached for his keys and started toward the driver’s side door.
There was a second when he got in that his brows pinched, likely aware of a bit of a lingering bleach scent or the fact that the whole area was cleaner than it had been. But once he turned it over and the heat blasted old fumes out of the vents, he seemed to forget all about it as he lowered the music, shot me a wave, then pulled out.
“Thank fuck,” I said, rolling the tension out of my neck, then making my way over to my rental truck.
Normally, the Family had someone to deal with bodies for us. But given it was the holiday season—and that I liked cleaning up my own damn messes—I was on my own.
I dropped the goods off at the storage unit, grabbed a large coffee and a few energy drinks, then made my way out of the city.
It was going to be a long fucking day.
Yet, somehow, even with a body to bury and a potential murder charge hanging over my head if someone or some camera caught me, all I could seem to think about was what kind of suit I could get to impress Stephanie.
The fuck was that about?
CHAPTER NINE
Stephanie
I didn’t see much of Venezio for the next few days.
It was mostly because of me and how busy I was. And, fine, a little bit because I didn’t quite trust myself to be around him and not try to, I don’t know, hump his leg or something like that.
I’d been in a heightened, constant state of arousal since the damn night on the street. I’d imagined those hands of his gliding, squeezing, slapping, thrusting. I thought about those lips and that tongue of his touching and tasting every inch of me.
And, well, yeah, other things too.
I’d chosen my next work project specifically because there was no spice in it. I was worried that narrating it would push me to the brink, and it felt wholly unprofessional to read a book sounding all husky and breathless.
So I’d been narrating this horrifically gory action drama that occasionally crossed the line into out-and-out body horror.
It managed to put ice on my libido. But only for as long as I was reading it. Then all bets were off because my stupid mind refused to think about anything but Venezio.
I’d literally gone through a set of batteries already. To no avail. I still ached at the thought of him and that sexy, rough voice, those mesmerizing eyes, and his gruff but protective nature.
Even his absence in my life wasn’t enough to calm my system down. Each time I smelled coffee or spotted a leather coat, I nearly wept with need.
To the point where I almost considered just… making a move on him.
Almost.
If it weren’t for the charity event I was depending on him to take me to, I might have done just that.
As it was, it was getting too late to find a replacement date. So I just had to suffer until then.
“You okay?” Craig asked, snapping me out of thoughts I should not be thinking of while sitting at a phone bank where I was supposed to be begging strangers for money to buy children’s toys.
“Hm? Yep. Yeah. Of course. Just got lost in my to-do list, I guess.”
“You have visitors,” he said, waving over toward the door.
I glanced up, spotting Andy and Sammy standing there, glancing around the warehouse with wide eyes.
They’d never visited before. And, yeah, if I tried to see it through their eyes, it wasn’t much to write home about. At least it was no longer freezing.