“I might be.” He shifts his eyes to Farrow, his gaze hardening. “But of course, I don’t have the allure of being an original member.”
“So, what…” I ask. “I give you Green Street and promise never to go into Weston? It’ll never happen.”
Not with Quinn living there now.
But he shakes his head. “It’s too late for that. The women will follow you. The mothers, sisters, and wives…and my girls.”
I go still, noticing the possessive way he says it, but knowing he’s not referring to his family or his girlfriends. He’s talking about his strippers and escorts and their families. Some might remember me from when they were younger and hanging around, and others might think any change is better than Hugo.
“They would crawl to you if you asked.” His jaw twitches. “And without the women, I can’t hold it.”
“I’m not looking to step into your shoes.”
“And I’m not shutting down!”
I pause, only smiling a little. “You will. And soon.”
He lunges for me, grabbing my collar just before his fist slams against my jaw. I growl, squeezing my eyes shut as my face whips so far right that pain shoots up my neck. My cheek catches fire as the inside of my mouth cuts against my teeth.
I swallow blood.Fuck.
His thugs and Farrow swoop in, trying to push us away from each other, and I fight to stay on my feet as the world tilts around me for a moment.
Curling my fingers around his throat, I shove Hugo back. He stumbles into his guys, both of them straightening him up immediately as Farrow steadies me.
Hugo breathes hard, both of us glaring at each other. “You have twenty-four hours to get your ass back out of the country, or I hunt you down and kill you,” he tells me. “And I will reopen that grave and dump you where Reeves should’ve put you eight years ago.”
I get in his face. “Why not do it now?”
He’s fucking scared. Too many cops around tonight, and we’re in public.
Or maybe Reeves, wherever he is, doesn’t want me dead yet. Hugo’s still not really the boss, and it pisses him off.
He closes the distance between us. “There are twenty-thousand breaths in twenty-four hours.” He inhales, savoring a long gulp of air. “One down. Make the most of the rest you have left.”
Pushing off, he leaves, back down the fire escape and followed by his boys.
Twenty-thousand breaths.
He wants me gone by this time tomorrow night. Would he killme?
I draw in one and let it leave me.
Quinn…
I inhale another. Then another, picking up a scent.
Farrow steps up to my side. “Lucas...”
“Go take care of your shit.”
I don’t want to talk to him right now.
Filling my lungs again, I catch a fragrance. Subtle. But close.
He descends the fire escape, and I follow him. Car horns honk, the area floods with lights, and we rush to the street to see the commotion. Sprinkles of rainfall, music blasts from a truck’s speakers, and Farrow turns, giving me a grin.
Weston is here.
