Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“That job you wanted, that’s not going to be easy, asshole. That fucker has connections,” Marcum says, switching to business quickly, which is just as well since I’m not really in the fucking mood for small talk.
“I’m not paying for easy. While we’re on the subject, I have another problem that needs to be dealt with.”
“Jesus, you’re a needy fucker all at once. What brought on all this shit?”
“A woman,” I growl, pouring more whiskey into my glass.
“Say no more. Jesus, brother. Shouldn’t you have learned from my mistakes?”
“She’s a good one, Marcum. She just comes with a fucking load of baggage.”
“Don’t they all,” he sighs.
“Trouble with Cherry?” I ask him, mentioning his latest squeeze. He’s kept this one the longest and she seems to care about him, but then what the fuck do I know about anything.
“Cherry left.”
“What the fuck for?”
“Now that’s the question. Unfortunately, it’s a question I have no fucking answer for.”
“Life would be fucking simpler if you could just keep them tied to the bed all the time,” I growl, draining the last of my drink.
Marcum stands up and slaps me on the back with a laugh. “Amen, brother. Amen. I got your order in. Get Bruno to send me the particulars on your add-on.”
“Will do. Where you headed?”
“Anywhere my dick takes me, brother. Anywhere my dick takes me.”
I shake my head and let him go. I’d like to think he’s a miserable fuck, but the truth is, I’m being led by my dick too, and at least Marcum’s will have a warm place to spend the night. Thoughts of Ana in our room covering her body from me with tears running down her face flash through my head.
Fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ana
I pull myself out of bed. I think I’m still in shock and I didn’t sleep at all last night. Mostly, I lay in bed reliving the confrontation with Roman. I thought I was prepared. I mean the DEA doesn’t send you undercover for nothing. I knew all along there was a chance that Roman did in fact have Allen, but after meeting him and the way we became with each other, it just didn’t seem to fit. How can someone be so good to you, be sweet and loving, and all the while be holding your brother to use against you—or worse, holding him to kill him? What does it say about me that I slept with this man?
God, what does it say about me that I miss him even now?
My emotions are all over the place and I can’t seem to get them in order. My mind keeps going back to the hostility between Paul and Roman. There’s more there than I know, much more than Paul will ever tell me. The man he makes Roman out to be, the man in the file the DEA has is not the man I’ve come to love—sorry, to care about.
Roman has always treated me like I mattered. Then again, how well do I know him? I jumped in head first, led by a quest to learn more about my brother—and by hormones. Definitely by hormones. I need to see Allen. If I can see him, then maybe things will seem clearer.
It takes me a few minutes to get dressed, brush my teeth, and look like I haven’t lain awake all night crying. I’m not sure I fully succeed. By the time I’ve finished, Roman still hasn’t shown. For all I know, he could still be gone. The thought of him spending the night somewhere else hurts me. Not because I think he went to another woman, it’s just… I want him with me. Even now. God, I am messed up.
I walk through to the main room. Roman is sitting on the sofa, his clothes wrinkled, his hair a mess, and there’s an afghan thrown over the sofa as if he slept there. It’s stupid, but thinking that he has, somehow makes me feel better.
He looks up at me when I stop by the sofa. There’s a look in his dark eyes… a heated look, and I fight against its pull.
“Have you decided, Ana?”
“I want to see Allen.”
“I can arrange that, after I have your word that you’ll stay.”
“This is crazy. Do you realize you’re blackmailing me into—”
“Call it what you want. Your word. I want your word.”
“Fine. I’ll stay,” I tell him, my stomach churning. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I do know I have to stay either way… for now.
“I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract.”
“Contract?” I ask, confused.
“You don’t think I’m going to take you at your word, do you, Ana?”
“Roman, I don’t have a law degree, but I’m pretty sure contracts built on blackmail are useless.”
“You’d be surprised what money can do.”
“Money and the right crook for an attorney,” I tell him, unable to believe he’s serious about any of this.