Page 47 of Unleashed
I suck in a breath. "Got it."
I can’t deny that this does excite me a little. This is the kind of investigation a criminal journalist lives for. This is one of the reasons I left New Falls. I thought it was too small for a story like this. Turns out I was wrong, and life was always leading me back there.
I’m looking for a murderer and organized crime dealings. If I took out the Ace complication, it would be epic.
She casually signals the bartender for another round. I won’t be drinking. One was enough.
"Now. Enough about work." She turns to me, tucking one leg underneath her on the stool. "Tell me about you, Harper."
And I do.
I tell her about growing up on the ranch. About my horse, Penny, how Ace bought her for my eighteenth birthday with money he'd saved from his first rodeo winnings, and how leaving her behind when I moved to LA was the second-hardest goodbye I've ever made. But I leave out Ace’s name and just call him my ex. I tell her about studying journalism. About the first time I saw the ocean and cried because it was so big and I felt so small.
She listens. She laughs. She asks questions that prove she's actually paying attention, not just waiting for her turn to speak.
By the end of the night, I've assessed her enough to know what I'm dealing with. Gianna Milano is a woman hurting. A woman running on grief, fury, and the relentless, burning need to make someone pay for taking her brother from her.
I understand that. More than she knows. I'd do the same for the people I love. Iamdoing the same.
I'll help her get what she needs. I'll keep the Sterlings safe. And if the money she's offering is real, then maybe I can stop for a moment and assess what I really want to do with my life next.
Is LA my home? Is this career really what I want to be doing?
Or maybe I need to go home. For real this time.
We hug goodbye on the sidewalk outside the bar. She smells of cigarette smoke and expensive perfume and something darker underneath, something that doesn't wash off.
"Safe travels tomorrow, cowgirl," she says, squeezing my arm. "And lose that ring before you go home. It doesn't suit you."
She's right. It doesn't.
I watch her Rolls-Royce pull away and stand alone on the sidewalk in the warm LA night.
My phone buzzes in my hand. The burner.
Gianna: Don't let me down, Harper. I don't give second chances. But I don't think I'll need to with you. <3
I tuck both phones into my bag and walk to my car.
Tomorrow, I fly home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ace
The Greek hasn't slept.
I can tell because when I walk into the tack room at the crack of dawn, coffee in one hand, rope in the other, his eyes are bloodshot and darting. He's been zip-tied to the saddle rack all night, sitting on the cold concrete with his back against the wall and his wrists turning purple above the restraints.
“Paulie, you’re good to go,” I tell him.
He scuttles off, probably to catch some rest after watching this sack of shit all night.
I pull up a hay bale and sit across from him, taking a slow sip of my coffee.
"Mornin'," I say.
He doesn't respond.
