“Look, I know they’re after the boy, TK, and if they come, I’ll be leading the fucking charge to protect him, but he’s not the only person we need to keep safe. Nobody’s ever protected Boo, but she has me now, and I’m not letting anyone near her until I know she’s ready.”
Without hesitation, TK nods in understanding.
I turn to Judge, who doesn’t look pissed anymore. He just looks frustrated. “I get it. I get what you’re saying, and I feel for that girl. So, we can give it a bit more time, but we need to talk to her, and soon.”
I take my seat, just as Hashtag bursts through door, announcing, “I got something!”
Hash is our tech guy, and he’s damn good. Someone goes missing? He’s the one to find them. If someone tries to break in? They need to get through his system first. And if we need intel on anything, Hash will fucking find it. Dude is a bloodhound for information.
“That girl,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “She’s not who she says she is.”
Jesus Christ. What is it with these guys attacking Boo?
Before I have a chance to argue, Hash moves toward Judge, hands him a stack of papers, and poses to the group, “Any of you ever heard of the Atlantic City Syndicate?”
“Aren’t they the ones who took out that cartel outside of the casino?” StoneFace asks.
Hashtag’s growing excited now. “That’s the one. Fucking ruthless bunch. They’re an Irish mafia group that runs the strip in Atlantic City.”
“What does this have to do with Boo?” I huff, frustrated, just wanting to get back to my room.
“Well,” he drawls. “Seems that Boo is the little sister of Liam Collins, the head of the whole fucking organization.”
My eyes go wide.
Staring at the printouts in his hands, his eyes as wide as mine, Judge bellows, “You saying that girl in Priest’s room is a fucking mafia princess?”
Hashtag smirks. “And Collins has been on a tear for years trying to find her.”
I can’t breathe.A mafia princess?There’s no way she knows… or does she?
BOO
While Priest is gone,I take the time to get my hair sorted. The pink is fading more by the day, and the thought of it being completely gone makes me sad. My coppery red roots are already showing. I don’t hate the red, but I like my pink better, because it feels more like me. I’d chosen to dye it, and it was one of very few decisions I’d ever made for myself.
Instead of plaiting it into a braid like I usually do, I let the length hang loose around my shoulders. The braids were always at Alan’s insistence.Better to hold you down with.Now that I’m free of him, I doubt I’ll ever braid it again.
I look over at the open door. I’m free to leave, free to roam, yet I can’t, because I don’t know what’s out there. All I know is that I’m safe in this room, and leaving that scares me more than I want to admit, so I head back to the bed and make myself comfortable.
“Hey, Angel.” Priest walks into the room with a sandwich and potato chips.
“I don’t think I’m hungry enough to eat again. Not yet, at least,” I say, though I accept the plate.
“Yes, you do. You’re skin and bones.”
I peer down at my body. I’d never been self-conscious, but suddenly, I feel inadequate, thanks to his earlier rejection. Is my body the problem? Am I too skinny? Are my breasts too small?
Priest drops his ass onto the bed in front of me. “What’s that face?”
“Nothing,” I mumble, my gaze falling to the plate on my lap. “I’m just not used to someone caring if I’ve eaten, or how skinny I am.” As long as my pussy still worked and my legs opened, that’s all that mattered to the Screwballs. “So, where’d you go?”
“Church.”
I consider that. “It’s about what to do with me, isn’t it?”
“No, Angel.” He grabs my hand and pulls it into his lap. “I briefed the guys on what happened with the Screwballs, that’s all. Pretty routine, considering what happened.”
“I can’t stay here forever.”