AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It wasn’t like it was her life savings we were talking about.
But, clearly, she needed that money.
It was a fact that should have made me feel better. It would be easier to get her to agree to silence if she was strapped for cash.
Somehow, though, it wasn’t satisfaction I felt.
It was something more like sadness or empathy.
Money, well, it hadn’t ever really been an issue for me. Or anyone I know. That was a good thing about being a part of the Family. Cash was never hard to come by. And even if you found yourself strapped for some reason, someone was always around to toss a couple grand your way.
Hell, I’d been locked up for fucking fifteen years, but someone was always there to put money on the books for me, to send me shit, to bring me shit.
I’d never been financially hurting.
That said, I grew up in the city.
I saw homeless people and struggling people every single day I walked the streets.
I understood how hard it was to get and stay ahead in a city as expensive as ours.
And Whitney was, what, a teacher with a waitress side gig? Yeah, she couldn’t exactly be rolling in it.
“How’s the pain?” I asked, wanting my mind on something other than sympathy for her shitty financial situation.
“Don’t drug me again,” she demanded, jaw tight.
“I was going to offer regular pain pills, not to knock your ass out again,” I said, shaking my head. That shit was precious. I wasn’t going to waste it like that. “Getting shot hurts like a motherfucker.”
“How would you know?” she grumbled. “What are you doing?” she hissed immediately after as I reached behind my neck to pull my shirt up and off.
“Showing you how I know,” I said, balling the shirt in one hand, and waving down my body with the other, then turning to show her my back. “Take your pick,” I added, facing her again. “They all hurt.”
“You’ve been shot four times?”
“Five,” I clarified.
“Wow. So you’re a jerk to everyone, not just me,” she said, holding back a smirk. And, hey, I had to give her credit for having the balls to snark off to someone like me.
“I’m a jerk for fishing those bullets out of you, cleaning your wounds, and stitching you up?” I asked.
“Well, maybe you wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t—“ she started, but clamped her mouth shut when the door opened at the side.
“He’s her—“ Cesare started, then his brows furrowed. “Why is your shirt off?” he added.
“Who is here?” Whitney asked, straightening, her eyes going wide.
“Do you want the pain meds or not?” I asked, pulling my shirt back on.
She gave no answer to that, making me sigh.
“Suit yourself,” I said, leaving to go talk to the boss.
CHAPTER FIVE
Whitney
I was punishing nobody but myself.
