Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Bento grunted. “Yep. But Anurak didn’t buy nearly as much as Ace, so I can be grateful for that.”
I laughed and moved aside so he could pass. “Just a warning, your husband is annoyed with me. Might be in a pissy mood.”
Bento grinned so wide, his teeth showed. The man was such a fucking sucker for his psychopathic husband. “I know how to fix that.”
I barked out a laugh and headed for my car, beeping it unlocked with my remote. “Have fun with that.”
“Always,” he called over his shoulder before he disappeared into the house, kicking the door shut behind him.
Chapter Four
Maksim
Days had passed with no sign of Alfonzo, but then again, I’d been laying so low, I’d hardly left the estate. I mostly remained cooped up in my room in the soldiers’ quarters, pretending I was doing recon on my target when anyone asked what I was up to. Or when Anatoly asked for updates. Thankfully, he’d remained patient. Even he knew how slimy of a mother fucker Alfonzo Aguado was.
And I truly had done some digging, mostly to see what I could find out about him due to sheer curiosity. But he really was a ghost. If I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes, hadn’t heard him speak to me with that gravelly, almost taunting voice, and hadn’t felt him press his pistol against my chin, I’d have thought he was nothing more than a figment of Anatoly’s imagination.
I glanced around me as I stepped out of the grocery store. It was dark outside, but the parking lot was well lit, hardly any dark areas to be seen. And I’d parked my car directly under one of the lights in the parking lot, and I’d also parked as close to the front of the store as I could get without taking up a handicapped parking spot.
I’d had to make the trip to get food because I was officially out, and it was either buy food or starve since the soldiers were responsible for feeding themselves. I’d dressed in regular clothes to look like a normal person and had pulled on a hoodie and a ball cap to try to avoid being picked up by any cameras. Because I had no doubt in my mind that Alfonzo was still looking for me, and if Rico Martinez was as powerful as I’d been led to believe, it would be nothing for Alfonzo or his head of security, Niran Chun, to hack into cameras.
Hoping the coast was clear, I hurried to my car, tossed my few bags into the backseat, then quickly scrambled into the front seat. I jammed my finger onto the lock button, and only when I heard the locks engage did I breathe a sigh of relief.
I was not fit for this shit. I worked better on a team, listening to someone else’s orders. I preferred knowing someone had my back—multiple people, actually.
If I didn’t think it’d get me killed since abandoning the Bratva was a crime punishable by death, I’d take what money I’d earned—since Anatoly did pay well—and move to the fucking Caribbean or something. Just disappear and hope Alfonzo never fucking found me. Now that I was on his radar, I knew he wouldn’t let me go until he’d toyed with me enough, until he got bored and let me fall dead at his feet.
Jabbing my key into the ignition, I turned the engine over, then headed out the parking lot. I was on the highway back to the compound when headlights suddenly appeared in my rearview mirror—as if someone had been following me the entire fucking time and only now wanted to make their presence known.
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I knew without a shred of doubt that it was him.
Alfonzo.
He’d found me.
Fuck.
I pressed my foot harder to the accelerator, my heart in my throat. Was this just going to be another part of his game, or had he already grown bored of tracking me and was ready to take me out? I wasn’t ready or anywhere near prepared to deal with him.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Reaching over, I popped open my glove compartment and grabbed my gun, but I hit a bump in the road just as I pulled it out, and it slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floorboard.
“No, no, no,” I muttered, leaning back up and tightening my fingers on the steering wheel. I glanced in my rearview mirror, and vomit climbed up my esophagus. Alfonzo had erased the distance between our cars and had left hardly any space between my rear bumper and his front one. He was so close that if I had to hit the brakes, he was going to rear-end me.
My phone rang, and I jumped, my heart lurching into my throat as I accidentally yanked the wheel to the right, damn near crashing. After righting the vehicle, I snatched my phone up, my heart slamming against my chest bone as I stared at the word restricted on my screen.