Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“I need to talk to Vincent.”
She laughed. “Right to the point, huh.”
“Figured I shouldn’t waste your time.”
“You can go talk to him.” She gestured at the door. “His office is down the hall.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that.”
She tilted her head. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“It’s about Amber.”
She looked at me for a few seconds then shut her book. “You care about her, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“More than you expected?”
I nodded and didn’t answer.
“And now you’re worried about what my husband’s going to do.”
“More or less.”
She sighed and stretched her legs. I watched her carefully, and began to temper my expectations slightly. I saw her as an outsider here, as a part of the family, but not quite indoctrinated into its way of being. The mafia, like most crime families, was packed with violent dickheads and paranoid psychopaths, and the Leone family was no exception. Living in a family like this meant you had to suspect everyone and assume the worst at all times, and most people couldn’t live like that.
Apparently, Mona could. I realized she was shrewd, and smart, and probably craftier than I thought at first.
“I can get you in there to talk to him, if this is really for Amber.” She leaned toward me, eyes flashing in the firelight. “But you have to know that girl’s fragile, right?”
“I understand she’s been through some shit.”
“And that shit’s coming back for her right now. You need to be patient.”
I felt my jaw clench. I was being patient, damn it. I nursed her back to the world and slept on her couch for days so she’d feel safe and protected. I was patient as hell.
“I’m trying.”
“Good.” She stood. “Come on then.” She drifted to the doorway. “How much is my husband paying you, by the way?”
I flinched. I didn’t love being asked about that twice in one day. “A lot,” I said.
She nodded and we stepped out into the hallway. “I want some of that money to go to Amber when this is all over.”
“What?”
She turned to me, our bodies close in the dim hallway. Her voice was hushed by the plush carpet and I felt like a spy in some movie.
“The only thing that’s going to save her in the long run is money,” she said. “She needs freedom to get away. Money can do that.”
“You think my money’s what she needs?”
“I think you’re getting more than you need from my husband.”
I smirked and shook my head. “I’ll help Amber. But I’m not giving her cash.”
“Ren—”
“She doesn’t need money,” I said, before she could argue. “Money’s just a band-aid. She needs someone to be there for her no matter what happens.”
“You think that’s you?”
“I think it could be, if we survive this mess. And step one is letting me talk to Vincent.”
She hesitated and I saw a moment of anger flash into her eyes. But she turned and walked again, and I hurried to follow, a small smile on my face.
I had to admit, Mona was terrifying, but in a good way. I liked that she was aggressively looking out for Amber, even if it was at my expense. And maybe giving Amber money was a good idea. I wasn’t going to tell Mona that, or mention it to Amber, but maybe when this was all over—maybe some of that money should go to her.
Hell, maybe all of it.
Mona reached a set of intricate double doors. She held a hand out to me. “Wait there,” she said, then knocked three times before stepping inside.
I stood alone for a few minutes until Mona emerged again. She nodded and gestured.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Good luck. He’s in a shit mood.” She smiled sweetly and stalked off.
I grunted and stepped into Vincent’s office. It was large, with a conference room table on the left, and a poker table on the right. Dead set in the middle was a huge wooden desk, flanked by tall bookshelves. Vincent sat at the table on the left, his sleeves rolled up, a bunch of papers spread out in front of him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was an overworked accountant.
I walked over, but didn’t approach too close. He looked at me and leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I wanted to talk to you about Amber.”
He gave me a look with those intense eyes for a long second. I could imagine that look making lesser men very uncomfortable. It only made me very annoyed.
“My wife says you care about her.”
“Your wife’s smart. But it’s less about Amber, and more about her family.”
Vincent tilted his head. “How’s that then?”
I drifted closer. “The war’s not going good, is it?”
His face showed nothing. “We’re fine.”
“I hear the Dusters are doing some damage.”
“They’ve been frustrating. That’s all.” An edge to his tone. I decided not to push harder.