Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Because there is no doubt he’s been busy creating new enemies when we’re already swimming in a sea of monsters.
I head his direction, and he stares at me, watching every step I take, doing so with the intensity of a man who can kill as easily as he can make passionate love to me. He’s unreadable and unbelievably bold for coming here tonight.
He’s also left the suit behind for black jeans and a black sweater, and despite the bitter cold, he hasn’t bothered with a coat. He looks wholly male and arrogantly in control. Good thing he has me to remind him he is not. I close the space between us, ready for battle, but the minute I’m in front of him, his hands are on my waist, and I’m pulled hard against him.
“What the fuck are you doing, woman? My father and Ghost in one day?” His voice, his eyes, level me with his torment.
His love for me, his fear and worry, punch at me as surely as do his sins. Sometimes I’m reminded I’m human, and those times are always with Kane. I both love that about us and hate it, too. My body softens, and I relax against him, my hand on his hard chest, the beat of his heart thundering beneath my palm. “I didn’t come to them. They came to me.”
He catches my shoulders and eases me back to meet his stare. “Tell me.”
That soft command hardens me. Oh yes, it does. He dares demand answers when he gives me none, avoids me plenty, and knows damn well, just as I do, it’s for the wrong reasons. He knows he did something today I won’t approve of, now or ever. “Tell you what, Kane, you and your fucking secrets today say you don’t have the right to do anything but apologize before and after you explain yourself.”
“I won’t apologize for doing what I need to do to protect you, Lilah.”
I shove out of his arms, and I’m back to pointing, this time at the man of my dreams and nightmares. “Do not even try that bullshit with me, Kane. I can protect myself, as you well know. And we talked about this. I won’t live in a world of secrets, no matter how hard the truth is.”
He just stares at me, the glint in his eyes just what Jay said—stone and fire. “What happened with Ghost?”
“Not here. None of this is happening here. I have to go back inside and manage the crime scene.”
He pushes off the vehicle and instantly closes the minute space I’ve placed between us, but he’s smart enough not to touch me, or he’d have a knee to bend him over right now. “What happened with Ghost?”
“He’s going after Mark Walker’s sister, who assassinated Murphy. It’s a game to him. Who gets there first.”
“Ghost doesn’t play games.”
“He must be bored. What did you do today, Kane?”
“What you suggested, bella. I found a way to control my father.”
Now it’s my turn to command him. “Tell me.”
And his turn to show his defiance. “No.”
“No?”
“No, Lilah.”
Fury bubbles inside me, and betrayal knives me from within. “That breaks our vows to each other.” I jerk hard on my arm and put my own wide girth between us before I say, “I won’t be home tonight.” With that, I turn and start walking.
“I’ll be wherever you are.”
I don’t turn. I don’t humor his arrogance. He can try to find me. He’ll fail. Just as he failed to keep his secret. He smells of cigars, exactly the brand the patriarch of the Italian mob smelled of when Kane tied him up in my garage.
Chapter Eleven
The fucking mob? Now we’re in bed with the Society, the cartel, and the mob. We’re fucked with a capital F. So fucking fucked that we can never be fucked to this degree ever again. Because we will have to kill them all or die. That’s where this is going. I hope Kane has his shovel ready.
I need that pie. And chocolate. And for reasons I can’t explain, Cheetos. The puffed kind. Knowing those things are in my future is the only thing keeping me from turning around, charging at Kane, and slapping him.
Because he hates to be slapped.
But he deserves so much more.
I also need to know where Mark’s sister, the trained sniper, is before she kills someone else, if she’s the assassin, though it appears that way. I snag my phone and try to dial Ellis, who went to Maryland looking for her, only to land in his voicemail. The more I think about him leaving for Maryland alone, the more it sits like shit on my shoes. Dirty. Stinky. Bad.
He was on the committee. He could easily have voted to strip Elsa and Mark’s father, Clyde, of his contract. And that action is why Clyde is reported to have committed suicide. And where the hell is Adams? He’s the acting FBI director and completely MIA.