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)
His father would use him for the betterment of his agenda.
Kane will see the value of doing the same with his father.
Once I’m upstairs in our bedroom, I shut the door, and waste no time changing out of my dress and into a pair of leggings, a sweater, and sneakers, an outfit that isn’t perfect, but it’s battle ready. I settle onto the bed, and place my blade on the nightstand, within close reach. To say I’m feeling a bit stabby is an understatement. It’s impossible to believe I have this many crappy men standing in my path and I won’t end up stabbing at least one of them in some sensitive part of his body sometime soon.
Because they made me, of course.
It's late, close to two in the morning, and I need my sleep, to be my best bitch tomorrow but my mind is racing. Ghost is a pain in my butt, but I believe, right now, a problem that can wait. Junior is likely the same. But Roberto is another story.
Why did he come back?
I grab a stack of notecards from the nightstand and write: He was running from someone who’s gone now. My brows dip. But why now? I think. Why wouldn’t Roberto get rid of that person a long time ago? I actually write that on the card. And the only answer I can think of. He couldn’t.
Tapping the pen on the card, I ponder the possible answers. He must see this person as untouchable. Was it Kane, who he needed to carry on his name and there is something there I don’t know? No, I think right away. There were secrets between me and Kane but we’ve rid ourselves of those. Unless he just hasn’t told me yet. He had no reason. He thought his dad was dead. I’d say Pocher, especially after all he said about the Society, but Pocher’s still alive and well.
I write down a few other options. An enemy we don’t know about, a gambling debt though I doubt a kingpin would worry about that, and lastly, the mafia. Each premise is assigned its own card.
An hour later, the house is quiet and I creep from our bed to the hallway, easing to the railing overlooking the living room. And just as I suspect, Kane and his father are gone.
Chapter Thirteen
I wake with a notecard stuck to my face, the first light of dawn peeking through the blackout curtains I failed to shut last night. Wonderful, I think, as I yank the paper from my skin. A new paper imprint on my face, of which I have had many. With an extremely ladylike grunt, I push up on my hands and find I’m alone. Kane never came home but the truth is I never expected he would. Some women need their man close. Some care more about where he buried the body, if he buried the body. That’s me. I’m that girl.
I throw my sneaker clad feet over the edge of the bed, and walk outside the bedroom, glancing over the railing to find the living room remains quiet. By the time I’ve retrieved my phone, my messages are blowing up as apparently sunlight has awakened the slumbering beast called my brother. How early can we meet?
I don’t answer. He’ll think I’m asleep and that works for me.
I walk into the closet, pick out clothes for the day and then rush through a shower and my routine. By the time I’m in dress slacks, boots, and a teal blouse, my messages are several deep from Andrew. I start with the last one first which is likely the only one that matters: Wake up already. Dad’s moving into the governor’s mansion today. His team feels like it has better security. That doesn’t happen for months after the election in most cases. What the heck is going on?
Of course, my father managed to get to the proverbial castle in the sky as soon as possible. Another text pings, proving my brother is forever a nag. Lilah, damn it! I’m coming to you if you don’t answer. He’s already calling me. As if I’m going to answer before I’m ready.
I walk to my nightstand, place one earbud in my ear, and the other inside the case and in my pocket. Next, I slide my blade into a cozy spot on my person, slip on my holster and firearm, and then walk to the closet and remove a jacket from a hanger that I slide over my blouse. I’m dressed as if I have a case to solve and until I’m presented with a dead body, that isn’t Roberto’s, I’m going to find out where he’s been these past few years.
And look for Junior.
That means Jay needs to get his lazy ass up.
I head for the hallway, walk down the stairs, and Jay, my oh so marvelous protector, has snuck in while I was dressing. He’s presently on my couch, on his belly, his cheek pressed to the cushion, and his mouth twisted in some weird half open spectacle. I walk to the coffee table in front of him and sit down. When he snorts and snores, I pull my blade and press it to his cheek.