Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112449 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112449 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
“We’re the evil tax collectors, and Jeremy and his Crows are the messiahs,” Legend said, “come to save them and create their own promised land.”
“Seems to be their plan.”
He leaned over the counter, boring down on Arsenio. “How are we going to stop them? You going to pay them a visit?”
I tucked further in the corner. Was Legend serious? They’d kill the Crows for unseating their thrones and causing a little worker unrest?
Arsenio didn’t answer right away. My lungs failed me as the silence stretched.
“No,” Roan spoke up. “That’s not the right move. I don’t need to tell you what’ll happen if Foundry gets what they want. That cannot happen, but if Ellis knows, he knows. Getting rid of the Crows won’t stop him. Getting rid of him won’t either if he’s got Foundry’s board in on it. The mass murder of an entire board of directors right before they acquire property in a town with a bloody history, is bound to attract some notice. Plus, right now our own people are happy to offer us up as the main suspects,” Roan said.
I found myself nodding along. Incredible that of all people, Roan was the one talking sense and calm.
He rubbed his bandaged arm. “If we strike back with violence, we’re going to jail.”
“Then what do you suggest? Huh? What?”
No one replied.
“Fuck!” Legend swiped a fruit bowl off the counter. It crashed at my feet in a shower of glass and oranges.
The guys looked up at my cry. Legend narrowed on me.
“The place is yours,” he told them. “Do what you want. Stay as long as you fucking want. Folks don’t come back for another week and a half.”
He stalked toward me. I jumped—jerking back like I was going to run. Legend ended any thought of that by tossing me over his shoulder.
“I need a distraction. Don’t wait up for us.”
“Distraction?” I repeated. “What are we doing?”
“Yoga.”
Legend carried me upstairs, bypassing the towering portrait. He brought me into a bedroom that had to be his.
A massive canopy bed dominated the middle of the room. That placement was odd for anyone else. The more I learned about Legend St. James, the more it made sense the activities that went down on that bed would take center stage.
“Wait for me.” He set me on the couch. “Don’t move.”
And go where?
Legend walked out, leaving me to scope out his place in peace. It seemed the typical guy’s room if obsessively clean. He didn’t live here anymore, so it wouldn’t be messy. That fact didn’t tell me anything about him.
I got up despite my orders, searching for something that would.
Music posters covered every wall. Green Day, Papa Roach, Evanescence, Finger Eleven. If I hummed along to their songs while Ivy blasted them upstairs, they were on this wall.
Poking my head in the closet, I spotted mostly suits. These were left behind in favor of the normal college-student clothes. I moved onto the entertainment setup. A big-screen television was penned in by two shelves stacked with DVDs. I bent to look when I heard someone coming.
I hurried back to the couch. Legend carried something in his left hand.
“A balance ball?”
“Correct.” Legend stepped down into the sunken living area, complete with my couch, two gamer chairs, and a coffee table. The coffee table was moved out of the way and the balance ball put in its place.
Legend looked at me, trapping my gaze as he unbuttoned his cuffs. Loosened his collar. I couldn’t place the emotion in them. Couldn’t name why it made me sink in my seat.
“What’s the word you have with Cairo?” he asked.
“It’s... fate.”
He approached me, tipping my neck as he towered. “What’s our word?”
“What’s ours?” My mouth was suddenly dry.
“What’s our word?”
“Um, it’s—” Legend traced my trembling lips. “It’s gentleman.”
“Cute,” he said, smirking. “I like it.”
Legend went into the closet. I craned to see what he was doing, and saw nothing but his shadow moving about amid bangs and thumps.
“Get up,” he called.
I did, getting to my feet as my more-than-a-rich-boy emerged. Something hung off his fingers.
“How good are you at yoga?” Legend came closer, giving me a proper look at the leather spanking paddles and whip.
My lips parted and nothing came out. How had I missed that hiding in his closet?
Squinting, I noticed something etched in the paddles. Legend kindly held them up for me to see.
SLUT.
BITCH.
SLAVE.
“How much do you know about yoga?”
“I did a few online videos,” I rasped.
“Disappointing,” he said, circling me.
The guys did that more than was normal. But then, they knew what I knew. I was their prey.
“This might not be as fun as I want it to be. Get on the ball.”
I climbed on, wobbling and falling off twice. The third time I caught my balance and watched him place his tools on the coffee table.
“It’s a simple game. You do your yoga without falling off or I”—he ran a finger down the whip—“help you try harder.”