Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
He studies me under veiled lids, a few heavy beats passing before his pride hands me a golden shovel, the one I plan to bury him with. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I don’t waste any time. I lean over, punch the elevator call button and the doors open immediately. I motion him forward, and when he steps inside, I join him, caging him with my presence. I key in the code and punch in our floor and when I face forward, Jay is about to step inside. I hold up my hand. “No. Stay.”
His eyes go wide, panic in their depth, as if he’s really all that stands between me and death. He doesn’t seem to get that Kane’s father could easily kill one of our men to make a statement. The consequences, however, of killing me would be brutal.
The doors shut between me and Jay and I hope like hell inside all of his desperate desire to make himself a martyr he calls Kane.
I’m going to need him to bury the body.
Chapter Eight
The elevator car is small. The hatred between me and Roberto is not.
We turn to face each other, our eyes locking, the depth of his anger, spiraling in his stare. “You look like your mother.” There’s a taunt to those words.
The statement isn’t a compliment nor a simple observation. It’s intended trickery meant to get into my head, and make me question his involvement in her death. He’s trying to scare me. This man really has a death wish. As for my mother and his involvement, I wouldn’t be surprised. Pocher uses everyone to serve his needs. I have much to say on that topic but not here, not in this elevator. “She was a delicate flower. I’m a cactus. Bitchy and thirsty for what my badge says I can’t have.”
“Must suck to be limited by that badge.”
It’s not a question and I’m not about to deny those limitations. “Me and my badge get on just fine.”
“You don’t think Kane uses you for it?”
“In every way possible, and I like it,” I assure him.
His eyes go wide, as if he isn’t sure what to make of that. Good. He’s not supposed to know what to make of it or me. My cellphone buzzes with a text and I pull it from my pocket to read a message from Kane: I’m trying to call you. What the fuck are you doing, Lilah?
He can’t call me because of the big steel box carrying his father to his death, but I type simply: Being a good wife, after which I return my phone to my pocket, a quirk to my lips.
“My son?” Roberto asks.
“Yes. He’s on his way. This little get-together seems like a good excuse to open one of his fine bottles of bourbon.”
“He’s pissed, isn’t he?”
He looks exceedingly pleased with himself. Good. I love it. It’s going to make washing the ground in his blood all the more pleasurable. The elevator dings, it’s a fast bitch, while I’m just a bitch, which my dear father-in-law is about to discover. I allow him to gloat, simply saying, “We’re here.” That’s all. I give him room to fill in the blanks. I let him build himself up and tear me down.
The doors open and I motion him forward, expecting him to decline—he’s stupid, but not that stupid—only turns out his level of stupid with me has no limits. He exits ahead of me, the very act telling me he has zero fear of me. Isn’t he cute. I could kill him here and now and Kane and his team would clean it up, but it’s just cleaner once he’s in the apartment. I follow him out of the car and he’s waiting on me in the hallway. I point right and we fall into step, side by side, and I’m fairly certain hell freezes over.
Once we’re at our apartment, I key in my code for entry into our foyer and holding room, which is our destination, where we’ll stay. I finish the lengthy security process while he mutters an objection of, “Mother of Jesus.”
I crack the door and rotate to face him. “Did you kill her?”
“Who?” he asks, scowling at me.
Considering the list of those he’s slaughtered is as deep as the hole I’m going to put him in before this night is over, the puzzled question could easily be legit, but then he adds, “I thought it was a chopper crash?” He smirks and walks into the foyer. I follow and shut the door, and when I turn, he’s exactly where I want him—in my personal space, nice and close. I’ve drawn his weapon before he ever knows what’s hit him. He curses and holds up his hands. “Agent Love. Careful now.”
“Just ‘Lilah’ is fine. We’re family now, Roberto.” I back up and give him room, motioning him to the other side of the small space.