Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“Ye needn’t worry yourself over Scarlett,” he says. “No harm will come her way.”
I don’t answer, so he reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“Do ye believe me?”
“I do,” I whisper. “But just swear it, please. Give me your word. You guys are big on that, right? Giving your word?”
Lachlan doesn’t look content that I’m still doubting him, but he nods anyway. “Ye have my word, sweetheart.”
“No matter what happens,” I insist. “You won’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with me or my life or the choices I make.”
“Is that the kind of man ye think I am?” he asks.
His disappointment with me penetrates right through my protective shield.
“I don’t want to,” I half laugh and half cry.
Oh, Jesus. Those are real tears. I really am crying. What the hell?
Lachlan looks just as confused as I am.
“I know you’re a good person, Lach. I see that when I’m with you every day. I feel safe when you’re near, and I’ve never felt that with anyone. But then I think about what you do and who you work for. Some things I’m okay with. Like last night… what you had to do, I wanted you to do it. It’s confusing the way that I feel. I don’t really understand it myself. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, and I want to tell you…”
His phone rings, and he hits ignore, keeping his attention focused on me.
“Tell me what, sweetheart?”
“I want to tell you…”
His phone rings again.
“Goddammit,” he curses. “Just one second, love.”
He answers and makes short clipped responses that grow louder and more frustrated by the time the call ends two minutes later.
“Christ,” he mutters. “I want you to tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it is.”
I want to tell him too. But right now, he’s stressed about something else, and it isn’t the time.
“Tonight,” I say. “We’ll talk about it tonight. I know you have to go.”
He sweeps his palm over my cheek and down my throat and kisses me again before pulling away. A moment later, Ronan appears outside the car door.
“He’ll take ye inside,” Lach says. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Okay.” I give his hand a squeeze. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”
He smiles. “Always, sweetheart.”
***
The moment Ronan and I are inside, I excuse myself to the restroom.
After checking that all of the other stalls are empty, I scurry inside and tear the file out of my handbag. I open it up and find a shit load of pictures and notes.
There are photos of Donovan going to and from the club, his house which turns out to be a sad looking little duplex, and a few of his usual haunts. It doesn’t surprise me that he likes to hang out at a seedy dive bar, or a Russian owned brothel. But what does surprise me is seeing him walking in and out of it with Mandy.
What the hell would she be doing at a brothel with him and do I even want to know?
I scour through the rest of the photos, finding the answer to that shortly. It turns out the brothel isn’t the only place they like to hang out. There are photos of them in back alleys, with Donovan’s pants around his ankles and her head bobbing between his legs.
Gross.
I start to skip over them, thinking them all to be the same, but then something catches my eye. In one of the photos, Donovan walks into the brothel with Mandy, but it’s one of the Russians who leaves with her. Double gross.
Is she ping ponging between them? And if so why did my guy think it was important for me to know this. I scan the corresponding notes and get his only explanation.
I had a hunch. I followed it.
Sure enough, the next set of photos are of Mandy and the Russian. It seems she’s been meeting with both men all over town. Sometimes two or three times a day.
It’s obvious what they’re doing by the photographs, but something about this still doesn’t feel right. Even putting aside the fact that I don’t like Mandy, I can’t understand why any woman would consider firsts with those two, let alone seconds. Willingly from what it appears. Unless they are blackmailing her somehow.
Could that be it?
Despite my feelings about her, Mandy is pretty. The type of woman most guys would find desirable. I highly doubt she has any trouble getting male attention. Well, except from Lachlan, maybe. But Donny and this Russian dude are far from the hottest guys on the planet, and Mandy seems like the shallow type. I can’t figure out what she would see in these two.
I look through the photos again and frown. There has to be something I’m missing here. Which means I’m going to have to do something I really don’t want to do. I need to talk to Mandy.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mackenzie
I find Mandy in the dressing room getting ready for her dance set. She’s lining her eyes with liquid liner when I sit down beside her and clear my throat.
“What do you want?” she wrinkles her nose.
I muster up a small smile for her. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me, but still. If she’s in trouble, I could help her. And I would. Regardless of my feelings towards her.
“Look, Mandy, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”
She screws the cap back onto her eyeliner and then turns her attention towards me. Her eyes are full of suspicion, but I forge on anyway.
“I just wanted to wipe the slate clean,” I tell her. “I thought maybe we could get to know each other a little.”
She laughs, and it comes out a little crazy. And then she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, sizing me up.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asks. “Do you actually think that sweet little act is going to work on me?”
Okay, so apparently nice isn’t the route to go here. I shrug and try a different tack. It’s not like I could make Donovan hate me any more than he already does anyway.