Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Fuck you.”
“You should answer him,” Finn says, still steady. “He doesn’t like it when people are rude.”
Pavel’s eyes flick to Finn and back to me. “You’re Whelan, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. And we’re very unhappy.” I tap his chest with the tip of the knife. “You and your family have been very naughty.”
“I don’t control what the Baranov does.”
“No, you definitely don’t, but since when did that matter in our world? Men like you pay for decisions you never agreed with all the time. Do you think that’s just?”
Pavel doesn’t answer.
I slice off another button.
“Tell me who ordered the hit on our meeting. I want names.”
Pavel’s laugh is strained. “I don’t know.”
“Think hard. So far I’ve been nice. But I’ll run out of patience soon.”
“I really don’t know!”
“You’re their fixer. We all know it. Pavel the Bag, right? Seems like a weird nickname.”
“Better in Russian.”
“I’m sure. Start talking. Who ordered the hit?”
“I told you—“
This time, I cut skin. I slice into his exposed chest an inch beneath his throat. He groans. The blood runs thin in the rain.
“Try again.”
“I don’t fucking know, you Irish fucking—“
I stab the blade into his shoulder. He moans and I have to hold him up to keep him from slumping. I should be taking this easier, drawing it out, but what Finn said before has me pissed off. What if Caroline had been there? What if Regan had been? Can I really say for sure that my wife won’t be around the next time the Baranovs decide to attack?
Fuck them and fuck this asshole too.
“Liam, careful,” Finn warns, keeping the gun steady.
“Talk, Pavel.” I get in the Russian’s face. I’m too close and exposed, but he’s stabbed and unarmed. “Give me something useful and I’ll spare your worthless life.”
Pavel’s pained smile is triumphant and bizarre. “You want something? Here you are, my friend. Your family is compromised. The people you love have sold you out. You have a traitor, you stupid Irish fuck.”
I realize my mistake too late. Pavel jerks something from his belt and I throw myself backwards as another knife I missed in the cursory pat down cleaves the air. The edge catches my cheek, ripping a red line, as Finn pulls the trigger.
Pavel’s head explodes. His brains and blood splatter against the wall and his corpse slumps sideways. I spill onto my ass, catching myself on a dumpster and breathing hard.
That was fucking close.
How the hell did I miss that other blade? How the fuck was I so sloppy?
“We have to go.” Finn nudges Pavel’s corpse. “Come on. You still have the phone?”
I look down at the body. He nearly cut my god damn throat. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Then this wasn’t a total waste.” Finn roughly shoves me toward the alley exit. “Now fucking run.”
CHAPTER 23
REGAN
It’s dawn when I find Liam sitting near the windows with a glass of bourbon at his elbow.
He’s in a shirt and pants. There’s a splattering of blood staining the front of him. I frown, blinking sleep from my eyes, and check the clock. It’s just after six in the morning. Sunrise sends long golden rays across the furniture.
“Hey, Liam… are you okay?”
He hardly reacts. I walk to him and kneel down beside his chair, carefully sliding the alcohol away. The ice is melted and it looks untouched.
“Hey. Liam. Hey, what’s going on?” I reach out to brush his cheek and notice the long cut from ear to lips. It’s shallow and the blood’s already scabbing. “What happened?!”
I hurry to get a fresh rag from the kitchen, wet it, and come clean the wound. He flinches, cold eyes fixed on mine as I do it. Worry wraps around my core.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I was quiet,” he says, voice raspy. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” He catches my wrist and gently moves the rag away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You have blood on you again.”
“That’s what happens when you’re around me.” He turns back to the windows, shoulders tensed and hunched.
I leave him and make coffee. When it’s done, I bring him a mug and make sure he drinks some. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair’s messy. He needs to shower, change, and get eight hours of sleep. I’m guessing he’ll do two of those things. I make him some toast and he eats it reluctantly.
“Now do you want to talk?”
“Not particularly.”
“Was it the job? Last night? I know you went out—“
“It’s nothing. Let it go, Regan.”
I pull back, clutching my mug between two hands, and turn my back on him. Liam’s beautiful and free in ways I’ve never been, but there’s a shadow inside of him, like a twisted and feverish dream rotting around his heart. I don’t know why or what makes it come out, but sometimes it takes over him, and I can’t do anything about it.