Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
The front door opened, and I sat up straighter, part of me wanting to stand up simply because it wasn’t my home. Maybe sitting down meant I’d gotten too comfortable? Even though everything about this screamed discomfort.
West stopped in the wide doorway and seemed to hesitate. He watched me, and he watched the table.
“What?” I asked.
He shook it off and came closer. “Just strange seeing you at the table again.”
I gave the table another glance as he flicked on the light right above. “Is this the table we picked out?”
“It is.” He sat down at the end, sharing my corner. “I had to re-treat it. Ellie and one of her friends wrecked the finish with glitter glue and scissors last fall.”
Ah.
“Got it,” I said. “Was Colby all right with crashing in the studio?”
“Yeah, definitely,” he replied. “He might not be asleep in an hour after all, if you want to check in on him. He saw the washer and asked if he could do laundry—something about bed bugs at the last place he’d stayed at?”
I made a face. “Yeah, it was a fuckin’ dump.”
“Explains why he called the studio a luxury apartment.”
I let out a quiet chuckle. I had a feeling Colby hadn’t experienced much luxury in his life.
“By the way, he gave me his number if you want to contact him.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll text it to you.”
“Thank you.” I’d send him a text in a little while.
He inclined his head as he sent me the number. “He calls you boss,” he noted.
“I’m not. I’m a…I don’t know, temporary babysitter.”
He hummed and placed the phone in front of him.
Fuck. Colby had talked, hadn’t he?
“Did he tell you anything?” I wondered.
He shook his head slowly, maybe considering his response. “Not really. He said he’d been sure that his punishment would’ve been a lot more severe—or painful as fuck, in his words—if you hadn’t stepped in and, to quote, saved his ass.”
That was technically true, I guessed.
“When I asked what he was being punished for, he became tight-lipped,” he added. “He said it was up to you to divulge anything.”
Attaboy. That boded well for our future work dynamic. Because I was definitely putting Colby to work. And hopefully, I could convince him to think about returning to school too.
Finn had given me six months, and Colby and I had a lot to prove.
“Would you rat me out to the cops?” I asked. “If given the opportunity.”
He furrowed his brow. “Do you really think I’d do that to you?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. Part of me trusts you enough to ask and believe whatever you say in response, but another part is like, fuck Alfie, he’s jeopardizing our kids’ safety.”
The furrow between his brows deepened, and he rested his forearms on the table. “I’d like to propose a trust treaty in that case. If you’re more honest about what it is you do, I promise to be a vault.”
I cocked my head, more than a little interested in the idea.
“I would like the record to reflect that I’d be a vault, regardless,” he went on. “With only one exception. If I genuinely believe our children aren’t safe with you—and you refuse to make changes—I will certainly do something about it.”
As any parent worth their salt would.
I cleared my throat and leaned forward a bit. “When I have Trip and Ellie, my work couldn’t be more uneventful. I have access to a condo near Reading Terminal, where I do nothing but text and talk on the phone. I help Kellan set up sit-downs and…errands. I’m his PA, in short. And tonight was an emergency—an exception. They will be extremely rare.”
“And when you don’t have the children?”
Right. Yeah.
We locked eyes, and it…it was like a crossroads. Now was the time to give him a hand—not an arm. Just…more than the middle finger I’d essentially given him in the past.
“I’m a location scout,” I said. “And I put together small crews to pick up stuff.”
“Stuff,” he repeated flatly.
I nodded once. “I’m not gonna go into detail. I will just say, I’m close enough to the management that they will never put me in situations where I don’t have enough time to cover my tracks. The phone I’ve talked about isn’t just one phone. It’s a burner I replace frequently, and we have enough tech geniuses to hide my location when I use it. Most recently, today, if someone tracked any calls, they’d think they came from Japan.”
“Jesus.” West sat back again and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
I pushed forward. “Staying on the sidelines isn’t only my own stipulation—it’s what works best for Finnegan and the others too. As long as I’m only loosely linked to the syndicate, they won’t be able to figure out what I’m doing for them. There’s no connection between us other than my being Finn’s cousin and Liam’s brother. And Liam’s not from here. He doesn’t appear in local case files. He’s Chicago’s problem.”