Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“You have a job for me?” There’s that amused tone again. “Seriously, Val?”
“Yeah, definitely a mistake. Forget it.” I start to stand again and he sighs, sounding annoyed. His hand reaches out and grabs my wrist.
“Stop acting like talking to me is worse than getting the plague,” he says and I think it might be the first time I’ve ever seen him serious. But that quickly clears up. “I’m a delight and you can’t keep your eyes off my masculine physique.”
“Seriously, Ronan, I don’t know what Marco ever saw in you.” I sit back down, mostly so he’ll let me go. Which he does, thank God.
“Same back to you, darling. But you’re not here to chat about our former friend and current frenemy, are you?”
“It’s a good job,” I say, leaning against the bar, bunching my shoulders a bit.
Ronan leans up next to me. Niall’s lurking nearby, acting as a buffer between us and the rest of the men. I assume they’re all in Ronan’s family: he’s the leader of a criminal organization centered around the Hayes Group, a bunch of low-life Irish gangsters with a love for violence and a robust cocaine smuggling operation. Nobody knows how it works, but they’re prolific and profitable. And allegedly, they’re all related. At least they all call each other cousin.
“All right, give me the details. I’ll consider it, for old time’s sake, at least.” He drinks his beer and I fill him in.
I don’t have much to offer. I know it and he knows it. Heck, the whole world knows it. Valentina Santoro’s just a pair of tits and a pretty face, and not much else. Except I’m not: when I was working with Marco, half of his best ideas came from me. He was trying to build an alliance of crime families to stand in opposition to the most powerful organization in all of Chicago, the Bianco Famiglia, and I was the one nudging everyone together and pulling the strings. Marco got credit, but it was me.
Which is why I know this is a good idea. Ronan doesn’t deserve it, but he’s the only person in this city that I partially trust and who could pull it off.
“One of my dad’s former Capos runs a chop shop out in the suburbs. He’s got a bunch of young guys stealing cars all over town and they bring them out to him twice a week. He breaks them down, sells the parts, and rewards his best earners with bonuses. I know some of his employees, I know his schedule, and I know how we can take his earnings.”
Ronan seems surprised. He leans on an elbow, studying me with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen him wear. Normally, Ronan’s joking around and teasing me, acting like nothing in the world matters, but right now he seems thoughtful, almost subdued.
Maybe Seamus knocked his brain loose.
“You want me to steal from a former mob Capo?” he asks quietly.
“It’ll be easy. Like I said, I did the groundwork.”
“You know how many guards he has? You know exactly where he keeps his cash?”
“No, but—”
“You know how many cars come in each night? And who his buyers are?” Ronan peppers me with half a dozen more questions, none of which I can answer. He’s shaking his head by the time he’s done. “I’m sorry, Val, but it’s not enough.”
“We can do this,” I say through my teeth. “I’ll give you everything I have. All I want is a small finder’s fee. Ten percent.”
He finishes his beer. “It’s not enough.”
“Ronan—”
He leans in closer. My breath hitches in my chest as his lips pull back into a gorgeous, cocky smirk. “How about you get down on your knees and beg for my help? Then maybe I’ll consider it.”
My eyes widen. There’s something dark and wrong about the way he says on your knees and a sick thrill runs into my core. Ronan’s handsome, I’ll give him that, and the idea of getting closer to him—even touching him—even letting him run his hands down my curves—
But no, absolutely no way.
And yet I’m desperate.
So fucking desperate, it’s pathetic, and what does it matter if Ronan gets to see me degrade myself? How much further can I really fall? I’m already at my lowest and I might as well get a little bit lower if that means fighting my way out of this.
Fury wells up in my stomach, but the rage is tempered by a strange desire, one I didn’t know I could feel for Ronan Hayes.
I shift out of my seat. I start to lower myself, heart racing. He stares down at me and licks his lips like he’s starving. The look on his face sends my heart into convulsions. I reach one knee and glare up at him. “Is this enough?”
“I like you down there,” he says like a purr, but takes my arm and pulls me back up. “But it doesn’t really change anything.”