The Romeo Arrangement - Nicole Snow Page 0,130

a conversation by text.

I open the camera app and replay the latest alert, a video showing a bright-red truck beginning its long crawl up my winding driveway, followed closely by a green vehicle behind it.

Goddamn. I didn’t expect them to show up in the same vehicles they used to capture Nelson.

I figured Grendal would only wheel around in the back of a sleek black SUV.

Apparently not.

I turn to Grace, who’s stopped pacing the floor, clutching at a strand of hair hanging over her shoulder. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Whatever happens outside, you stay in here,” I tell her firmly. “The rest is up to us.”

Of course she starts shaking her head.

“I mean it, Grace. Don’t argue.” I look at Jackie desperately. “Keep her inside. Lock the doors if you have to!”

Jackie nods, and fighting the raging desire to shut Grace up with a kiss that pulls the breath from her lungs, I jog to the door.

I don’t need to touch base with Faulk to know he’s on top of his people.

It’ll probably take a few minutes for the furthest agents to close in on the house, the barn. Even on horseback, they’re plodding over rough, uneven ground left scarred by winter.

No doubt whatsoever the recent rains have left the fields washed out with sinkholes of mud that can swallow a horse’s leg like quicksand.

Slamming the door, I head for the barn with my game face on. Those engines are growling closer by the second.

I never thought I’d see the day when my acting skills might save my life, but ready or not, it’s here.

Another thing I never expected: ruining a fifty-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch to pull my balls out of a vise.

Fuck.

I flash back to last night when Tobin helped me put the finishing touches on our big surprise. He had that fancy bottle of Macallan scotch I’d ordered looking like a virgin, never touched, its potent liquid swirling like molten gold behind the glass every time it caught the light.

It’s in my hand now as I pull it from the small crate of expensive bourbons I’d intended to have Tobin load up last if we were still heading into town as planned. Glad I kept it handy.

Truck tires crunch over pavement now.

I wait, raking a hand over my face one more time, willing myself to be someone else as the truck grinds to a stop.

Setting the bottle down on a small table behind me, I turn and face destiny.

Stepping outside with a glare for the men in the trucks, I look like a man who’s just walked through a messy dog park with brand-new shoes.

“Private property, you idiots!” I shout. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. Buzz off.”

Grendal, wearing a black suit and chewing on a cigar, climbs out of the red truck.

He scowls at me and then at the house, head up, neck tense, every bit the vampire mobster Grace made him out to be. Those eyes are like whorls of dark ink, portals to some scary, ruthless place.

His stance, the way he holds his arms out, tells me he works out.

I keep my shoulders slouched, my knees slightly bent, hoping he’ll think my good looks come from stylists and yoga classes. Not hard muscle earned in rivers of sweat.

Jackknife Pete climbs out of the green truck behind him. He’s wearing a suit jacket, too, leering at me instantly with that piggish tattooed face of his.

Interesting. Seems I’m not the only actor here.

They’re playing their parts well, I’ll give them that. Trying to flex on my turf like real high rollers.

“You again?” I point to Jackknife. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought I kicked your ass at the Bobcat back in the winter.”

“Watch your tone, Hollywood,” Grendal says coldly. His voice is charred but smooth, every word clipped, pointed, and fired with intent. “Nobody disrespects my men. I don’t care how famous you are, pretty boy. That’s one reason I came all the way here today.”

“Do I know you?” I grumble with a shrug.

Facing me again, he flips open his jacket, showing a gun holstered near his belt. “A friend of a friend. I wish we’d met sooner. This could’ve all been much simpler.”

“Hell of an introduction, showing up at my place, flashing your toys.” Ignoring the gun, I nod at Pete and smile. “You some kind of real live terminator or do you just play one? Who put you up to this shit? I bet it was Bebe, this is just the kind of thing

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024