Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“How’d that go?” War asks, leading me down the steps and back to his truck.
“I think it went well,” I say as we climb inside. “Daisy seems to have taken the news well.”
“She’s going to fight you, you know,” he says as he puts the truck in gear and starts to drive. “She won’t make this easy.”
“I know, but it doesn’t matter. She can make a bunch of noise and delay things in court, but in the end the ranch is sold and that money is mine.”
He laughs and rolls around a curve. “I’m happy for you, Melody. I really am.”
“You should be happy for yourself, too. You earned your commission.”
His eyebrows raise. “What commission?”
“I believe there was a two-million-dollar bonus involved, if I’m not mistaken.”
He says nothing, only keeps driving, his face suddenly impassive, and I wonder if I said something wrong. I expected him to be happy about this since it means paying off his father’s creditors and getting a bunch of dangerous Greek mobsters off his back, but he looks like I just told him I’m going to have to amputate his leg.
“That’s not why I did this,” he says, voice pitched low. “I can’t take that money from you.”
“You can and you will. You might be an asshole and a liar, but you don’t deserve to get killed.”
He lets out a throaty laugh. “I think there are some folks that’ll disagree with you. Daisy, for one.”
“Daisy doesn’t matter. Are you turning me down, Warren Temple?”
“Never,” he whispers and looks at me, the truck idling at a stoplight. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
“Dinner? That’s all?”
“Dinner, movie, sleepover, camping trip, vacation to Paris, whatever you want. So long as I can do it with you.”
“Let’s start with dinner,” I say, smiling like an idiot. “Maybe if we act like normal people—” I shrug, like, what do we have to lose?
“Dinner it is. I’ll pick you up at—well, how about we skip that part and go right out from here?”
“Sounds good to me.” I reach across the truck and slip my hand into his.
The light turns green and he starts driving again.
Chapter 28
War
Two months pass. Evander’s not kind of patient, but I manage to push him off until, finally, I agree to meet with him at another restaurant in Chicago. This time, it’s an Italian place, and Kazan’s with a table filled with other gangsters, all of them eating way too much and laughing with their mouths open, pouring wine down their throats like they’re feeding at a trough.
“Boys,” Evander says as I approach. “Our guest of honor is here. Get him a chair.”
One of the gangsters vacates his spot beside Evander and I sit in his place. I’m intensely aware of all the men staring at me, their expressions ranging from openly hostile to openly bored.
“I have a gift for you, Mr. Kazan,” I say and he laughs loudly.
“Call me fucking Evander. And lucky for you, I love gifts. What did you bring me today, War?”
I take out a check and slide it over to him. Evander’s eyes widen in surprise as he waves the check in the air like he’s trying to find out if it’s some kind of joke. “Is this for real? All of it?”
“Every penny. You’ll have to figure out a reasonable way to cash that though.”
Evander bursts out laughing and slaps my shoulder hard before shoving the check at the man to his right. It disappears into the man’s jacket, and suddenly all the angry glares and boredom disappears as Evander pours me wine and raises a toast in my honor.
“To paying your debts and saving your father’s life,” Evander says. “Let’s pray you never have to do it again, though I’ll gladly take more of your money.”
The men laugh and I drink. The wine’s good, and maybe it’s the congenial atmosphere or the smoke in the air, or maybe the alcohol goes right to my head, but an idea bursts into my mind. I lean closer to Evander and speak softly. “Actually, I was hoping for a favor.”
His eyebrows raise. “A favor? Well, shit. You just gave me a two-million-dollar check plus reasonable interest. What kind of favor?”
When I tell him, he laughs all over again and snaps his fingers. One of his lackeys comes over and Evander tells him to go to a nearby shop owned by a guy named Giuliano and ask for the piece up front, he’ll know the one. After that, Evander pours more wine, they order more food, and I listen to gangster after gangster tell stories about shakedowns, violent confrontations, and hilarious altercations. I laugh and drink and enjoy myself, at least until the lackey comes back with a brown paper bag.
“Here you go,” Evander says. “Your favor. I won’t be so crude as to discuss payment, but—” He tilts his head to the side, grinning like a shark.