Run (Run Duet #1) (16 page)

“There’s no such thing as a free ride, Liv. I know you’ve had your share of ups and downs but everyone contributes to the club. What do you have to offer?” Hardy wondered out loud as he drove
my
Ford Explorer with ease.

Ronan cleared his throat. “You wanna take it easy on her bro? She may not be family to you but she is to me. Her father and my mother are siblings.”

“I have a B.S. in Pharmacology. I was headhunted by some of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the world—”

“And . . .” Hardy trailed off.

“Pfizer was the one company that had a couple Nevada and California positions open. I’d travel a lot but in order to get your degree, you need to take a shit load of science and chemistry courses. I can, technically, manufacture Oxycodone, Vicodin, Valium, Zoloft, Wellbutrin, and Xanax. It won’t get in the way of the guy you have running whatever illegal stuff you make but it might be beneficial for some of the girls Kitaev is providing you with. They may be depressed, in pain . . .” I winked in the rearview mirror at him.

“Are you serious?” Naomi asked me, her amber eyes the size of golf balls.

“It’s a chemistry formula. The problem isn’t making it, it’s getting the components to make the drugs you require. I don’t like using China but I will take supplies from Russia and Eastern Europe. The optimum places to pick up these supplies though would be here, Canada or Western Europe. The problem is they don’t use any of the drugs I mentioned in doses that Americans do so that could be a problem.”

Hardy waved his hand away. “That’s what the club is for, Liv. As long as your boyfriend—the convict—is willing to help then this should all go smoothly as a baby’s bottom.”

“Am I to assume you have a stellar reputation, Mr. Cox?” I snapped back.

“Nope, spent a little time in the pen meself. I just didn’t make it a habit of goin’ back after the first time, know what I mean, luv?”

I grabbed my burner and texted Shaw.

Me: Babe, you need to meet me in Vegas.

It’s time for you to come home.

I didn’t get an answer from him for a while only to discover we were going through a mountainous area where reception was patchy. By the time we cleared the area, I looked down and noticed I had a message.

Shaw: On my way right now, babe. Hold on

sweetness. Coming home to you. xoxo

Me: I fucking love you.

Shaw: Love you more.

The End . . . for now.

Freaky, kinky, unconventional.

Fascinated with the unique and underexplored, psychologically obsessed with the human psyche, and stories that can be both romantic but push the buttons past a reader’s comfort zone. “I want readers to think, and if any part of my story is left with them after they finish one of my novels, or novellas then I have done my job.”

The worst rating SE Chardou can think of a reader giving her is “Meh.” Love her novels or hate them but at least she has had the satisfaction of knowing she made a reader feel something—anything other than numb—while they were reading her books.

SE Chardou enjoys living right next door to Hell, also known as the Las Vegas Metropolitan Area, which is pretty toasty especially in the late spring, all of summer and early autumn. She has two daughters who are six and a half years apart so beside author, she also works as referee, counselor, part-time maid and taxi driver.

An avid reader herself, she enjoys big five published authors, hybrid authors like herself, and indie authors. She daydreams a lot about what her next book will be about, and brushes up on her very rusty French at least a few times a week. 

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