Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“You want to diagnose everyone other than yourself. You can’t see your own compulsion, your own bias, or even your own family for what they actually are. You’re so desperate to blame that night on me, you’ve failed to look objectively at everything else. For fuck’s sake, Elle, stop and think about it. Why would I want to kill your mother? She wasn’t involved in anything at all other than being a mother to you and the innocent wife of a crooked cop.”
“I don’t know why,” I frown at him. “But I—”
“That’s exactly my point,” Nico interrupts. “If your reputation is as good as I’ve heard it is, then after all the digging around into my life and trying to get into my head, don’t you think you’d be able to answer that question by now? You’re one of the best criminal profilers in Vegas. If you can’t answer why you think I’m to blame, then maybe you should consider the fact that I am not to blame and someone else is.”
CHAPTER 12
NICO
Trying to get Elle to see that I’m not the villain in her story is nothing short of exhausting. I know she sees it. She’s too smart not to. She’s just being stubborn because if she admits to herself that she’s been chasing nothing more than a ghost all this time, then she’ll have to admit that the boogeyman that changed her life forever might still be out there. I don’t understand how she could be so blind to the fact that her father’s corruption runs deep in this city. If there were foul players to whom he owed a favor to, or who levied a threat against him, I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to have considered his wife collateral damage and hid the whole thing. Elle is resistant to me exposing the truths about her father’s challenging relationship with morality and ethics, but she’s not dumb. Somewhere deep inside, she knows that I’m telling the truth, and she knows I’m right.
“What is it that you want from me?” she asks as she furrows her brow.
Even when she’s frustrated and upset, she’s still lovely. It’s confusing to deal with someone like this—someone who I want to push away and pull closer at the same time.
“I want you to wake up and see the truth and the danger all around you before you wind up sharing the same fate as your mother,” I say without holding back.
“Is that a threat?”
“Of course not. If I wanted to kill you, then you’d be dead by now.” I can’t help but chuckle at that. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t have saved your life and put up with your constant intrusiveness in my life if I wanted you gone.”
My choice of words raises the heat between us, but not the argumentative kind of heat—something else.
“I want you to stop digging and walk away from whatever happened that night,” I say as I try to keep my voice steady. “I’ll handle the killers in this city. You can keep profiling them, but drop this.”
“What, are you some sort of vigilante now?” she laughs sarcastically. “I thought you were part of the Bratva.”
“I am. And I’m neither a hero nor a vigilante here. But when I decide to protect something, I protect it to the ends of the earth. It’s just how I was made.”
For a second, Elle looks confused. “And you’ve decided to protect me?” she asks. “Why?”
Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that question. I don’t think I even knew it back when I saved her life in the alley that night. But there is something else on top of all of those uncertain feelings that drives me forward, a blurred line between justice and vengeance.
“I couldn’t save my brother,” I say. “I trusted the people around us who were supposed to be on our side and keep us safe. I’m afraid that you might be doing the same thing.”
Elle’s mouth opens as if she’s about to say something, but then she quickly shuts it again. To my utter surprise, she is finally speechless and without any further questions to bombard me with, at least for now. When she finally speaks, she sounds less sure of things than she did before.
“I came here for answers, and you haven’t given me much,” she grumbles. “At least not the answers that I need in order to move on from all of this.”
“You will never get all the answers that you need to move on,” I say, speaking from experience. “Trust me. Sometimes you need to be able to move on without the closure that you seek.”
“I don’t think I can do that. I’ve spent years of my life trying to solve this. You’re the only thing that’s kept me connected to that night, and to my mom.”