My gaze wandered over my friends and for the first time in weeks, I felt a swath of tension peel off of me.
'You've started a war.'
Quinn raced down Atlantic Avenue, his heart pounding in his throat, and every fibre of his being tense with fear for Elizabeth.
Did he tell you that I was the boss? That I was the mastermind, the ruthless killer and conman?
‘Make us another pot of coffee and I'll make us some dynamite.'
We were no heroes. We had no army at our beck and call.
'And one of the gangs found out about his double dealings and got rid of him. Or he ran before they could discover him.’
Our pasts had been cruel, hard tutors, and we had to learn how to trust again.
A sickle of moon hung above our garden, throwing a soft silvery glow on the foliage.
'Oh, but I am.' A dangerous grin. 'Never underestimate me, love.'
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Life had broken him. More than once. But each time, he rose, using brute force to rebuild and reinvent himself, the brokenness etched into every part of him.
