Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Antonio stood and holstered the weapon. He took slow, measured breaths, then turned and walked out the same door Kass had.
I didn’t move. My hand was still pressed to the glass. I saw my face reflected in the surface and barely recognized myself. I didn’t feel anything for the dead man. Not pity, not relief, not even satisfaction.
Soon after, Antonio moved up behind me. He must have come from the hallway leading deeper into this floor. He stood silently, waiting for me. I didn’t speak or acknowledge him in any way other than to meet his gaze in the glass.
Finally, he broke the silence. “Did you get what you came for?” I nodded, unable to speak. “Good,” he said. “Get some air.” He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall instead of going back upstairs to the main floor.
I stayed at the glass for a long time, watching the body, watching the blood pool. When I finally started to turn away, I saw my hand had left a perfect print on the glass. I walked up the stairs, the sound of the shot still ringing in my ears.
Chapter Five
Antonio
I didn’t go up after Tessa. That was the first mistake, and I made it knowing better. Quinn’s body cooled in the box where I’d shot him with most of his last thought sprayed across the wall behind him. I didn’t kill often, but when it had to be done, I took care of business myself, or Kass did. The other man knew what lived inside me and the very last thing I wanted Tessa to see was the monster.
So I didn’t climb the stairs to find Tessa. I stood at the wash basin instead and ran scalding water over my hands, watching only clear water flow down the drain. The blood on my hands could never be washed off, and I didn’t want it to. I did what I did for a critical reason. But for Tessa… I might wish I felt otherwise.
I’d never regretted what I did for my father or my family. I didn’t care what I had to do to get what Seth wanted or needed to keep his stranglehold on the city. He was my father, and I understood the importance of what he did for Nashville. His rule was never about power but the delicate balance that allowed Music City to thrive while keeping the various clandestine operations away from the general public. The different factions running the underground had to be kept in their own territories. Any deviation from the norm risked violence spilling over into greater Nashville. That sort of violence would bring more firepower than Seth could safely manage without help. Asking for help could signal weakness and we might have a problem containing the fallout later, so he tried to avoid going outside the family as much as possible.
I told myself Tessa wanted what any sane person would want after witnessing an execution. Fresh air and distance. A few hours in a room where I wasn’t. I managed to give her twenty minutes. Then I went looking for her anyway, because staying away from her turned out to be the one thing I wasn’t disciplined enough to make myself do.
I checked her suite first. She’d left the door open but wasn’t there. In fact, she was nowhere upstairs that I could find. I knew she had to be on the property because not only were there guards all around the property, but she hadn’t broken the electronic fencing or I’d have been alerted. I walked the main hallway.
The sun had dipped below the ridge and the windows threw blue-gray shadows against the wood. I walked the length of the house and stopped when I saw a line of amber light bleeding under the last door on the east corridor. I pushed the door open to look inside.
The sunroom ran the full length of the west wall with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. My father had built this place around the sunroom, insisting he wanted a place to watch the sunset paint the evening sky. So I’d ordered the glass be bulletproofed. There were also controlled tint windows to black them out if necessary, as well as blast doors to lock down the room tight so the whole room doubled as a safe room. Overkill? Not when your family is the most powerful underlord in the southern United States.
Hanging plants crowded every surface, a tangle of trailing vines, thick ferns, and a bright pink hibiscus that took up half the corner. The terracotta pot was cracked and held together with wire. My father had refused to replace it, nor would he tell me why, but he seemed to favor that plant when nothing else much caught his interest. Other than the sunsets. In fact, I was surprised he wasn’t in here now.