Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
My throat tightened. My body shook. “There was no forensic accountant. There were no phony cops who pressured Vance into putting trackers in the Johnsons’ clothes,” I rasped. “It was Vance who dummied up those documents and he purposely did a terrible job so that if Sunny ever came for him, which he did, he’d go searching for some empty-headed fool connected to Batavia—as in you.
“He set you up to take the fall for everything! But of course, he couldn’t blame you for the trackers now that you’re living in another fricking state, so instead, he makes up some bullhockey about forensic accountants and dirty cops—people he had to get involved with because of you.”
If I expected Damien to rant, rave, and get upset over his friend’s betrayal—
Damien shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
—my expectations were dashed.
“Are you serious? You don’t care that your best friend set you up to take the fall for his scam?”
Damien rolled his eyes. “What am I? Five? Vance is hardly my best fucking friend. We were cool when we were kids, but what he actually was is my most generous friend. He was always the guy you could hit up for money, and he’d just give it to you. Sometimes he’d ask me to pay it back. Other times he wouldn’t.”
“And of course a leech like you would make sure you never lost his number.”
He let the insult roll off his back. “I may be a leech, but I’m nothing compared to what Vance is. The guy, he— He just— He has no ego,” Damien burst out. “He has no prejudices or opinions or morals. He’s like a fucking chameleon. He’s whatever he needs to be in whatever situation he finds himself in—putting on a flawless act—but when he goes home to his empty white room, he plugs himself into the wall, powers down, and recharges for another day of pretending to be human like the rest of us.”
I shuddered, a real and chilling shiver crawling up my spine. What a terrifying way to describe someone, but if Damien is right and all that sniveling, bawling, and wailing was nothing but a performance...
“Terrifying is exactly what he is,” I whispered. “He’s so good, he’s made me ignore my instincts twice. I swallowed every word of his bullshit because I didn’t believe anyone could fake being that pathetic.”
Damien shrugged again as he looked down. “So he forged these, did he?” He picked up some of the documents scattered on the floor. “Of course he linked it to the Merchants. It’s always about the Merchants. Not much could make Vance feel something in his empty, amoral heart, but when you got him going about the Merchants...” Damien trailed off, shaking his head.
“He hates them,” I confirmed. “I won’t ask why. Plenty of people think they’re justified in hating the Merchants because Adeline exposed the ledger, and then because she and her family won’t let the criminal underground run around unchecked.”
“I know what his reasons are.” Damien turned away, staring out the window at the beautiful New York skyline. “I know they were strong enough for him to join the Brotherhood.”
“What do you know about them?” River came over—sleeping baby and all—not able to keep himself out of the conversation any longer. “And why weren’t your reasons strong enough to join?”
Damien swallowed hard, tensing right up. “Please,” he said, holding out his arms. “Let me have my son—”
“Answer the question.” River handed me the little sleeping bundle. “Now.”
Damien relaxed to see me holding his son, instead of the brother of a dangerous mobster, but only slightly. “Fine,” he got out. “All right? I’ll tell you everything. Let’s just all stay calm.”
River claimed a seat. Leaning back, he spread out his hands as if saying I’m the picture of calm, how about you?
“I don’t know much about the Brotherhood,” he began. “Because I didn’t need to know. Only those who need to know know.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” River barked. “Stop talking in riddles.”
“I’m not—” He carded his hands through his hair. “I’m trying to explain!”
“Do a better job.”
I glanced at my own baby while they argued. Laurel was very happily playing with her auntie, completely unaware of the drama unraveling around her.
“—names or people,” Damien said. “I just know that the Brotherhood was founded by victims of the Merchants for victims of the Merchants. When I was around fifteen, I heard my aunt Della tell my mom that a woman approached her coming out of the grocery store.” Damien dragged my attention back to him. “She told her that she knew my aunt lost her father during the riots on the Night of Tears. He owned a jewelry store. They busted in and looted the place. He tried to stop them and... I’m sure you can guess what happened.”