AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He laughs. “No chance. One month.”
My jaw clenches. “Deal.”
“Eight million dollars in one month,” he muses with a sly grin. “I can’t wait to see how this pans out.”
Get out, get out, get out.
I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I said I’ll get you your money. Nowleave.”
“I’m going.” I watch as he strides towards the flapping front door. Then he pauses, turns to me, and says, “You know, Dahlia. You can always come to work at the club.” His eyes travel down to my crotch. “That pussy isn’t worth eight million dollars, but we might be able to arrange something less…financially taxingif you get on my payroll.”
“I’ll pass,” I growl. It’s not the first time Lucky has asked me this, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
“Think about it. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Lifting his finger to the red light winking down at me, he adds with a wicked grin, “And I’ll always know where to find you.”
And with that, he leaves.
Stepping over the broken plate I sink onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, my head pounding with more than just my injuries.
Eight million dollars in one month. It’s insane. Never going to happen.
I take deep breaths in through the mouth and out through the nose. It’s a technique I learned to help deal with my ever-present anxiety.
Once the fog clears, I relax a tiny fraction.
I never thought getting out of South Africa was going to happen. Just like I never thought escaping Colombia was going to happen.
Things happen.
Maybe if I ask nicely, God will give me a fourth chance.
Cillian
It’s been three days since I botched the job in South Africa, killed the Van der Boor brothers, and let the angel with the sea-glass green eyes hitch a ride on my jet.
Dahlia Rose.
Her name, real or not, has rolled around my head like a pinball in an arcade machine for three days straight. I’ve been laying low since spraying bullets into the bodies of South Africa’s most feared duo, so I’ve had plenty of time to mull her over, whether I wanted to or not. I’ve also had the chance to think about what made me so obsessed with her and have settled on it being purely physical.
Behind the bruises, she was every man’s wet dream. Cock-sucking lips, fuck-me eyes, and legs as long as a Monday. A mouth that moved quicker than most people blink. A beautiful face hiding a treasure chest of secrets. I don’t need help from Einstein to know she’s a walking, talking danger sign.
I drag a hand over my face and groan.
There are two things I don’t do in this life.
Women and emotion.
Both are nothing but a distraction from business. And you don’t get to the top of this game by being distracted.
I’ll just have to find a hooker who looks like her and fuck it out of my system.
A sharp rap, tap, tap on my car window brings me back to the underground parking lot of the Quinn Ventures building.
Donnacha. He’s all scruffy beard, wild black hair, and hard yellow eyes that stare at me through the glass. With a smirk on his lips, he says, “Away with the fairies?”
I frown and get out of the car. “Just putting off seeing your ugly face for as long as possible.”
He laughs, falling into step with me as we stride to the elevator bank. Only Quinn men can laugh at being called ugly because the idea is, in fact, laughable. Looking like you’re carved from stone seems to be a Quinn family trait. “Ten years ago, you’d have a bullet in your head for calling this face ugly.”
