Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Oh…” Her mouth stays open, permanently forming an O.
Wide-eyed, I can see her brain working, thinking back to the last six months and everything she thought about me that wasn’t true. So much wasted time all because I didn’t throw the fucking note away.
“I promise you, there has been no one else. I haven’t been with anyone else in years. It’s only you, Claire. It’s only ever been you. Always.”
“Lucca… I’m sorry, I should have talked to you instead of leaving.” She tries to turn away from me, obviously ashamed of her actions, but I won’t let her. I don’t care what happened in the past. I only care about today, tomorrow, and our future.
“Don’t be sorry, baby. All that matters is that we are together now.”
She gives me a smile, but it’s weak. “So, what was the phone call about?”
“I have a job to do, something that can’t wait. It’s time-sensitive.” I let go of her and look ahead, through the windshield. I can’t bear to look her in the eyes, too afraid to see what might be there.
Disappointment, or maybe even fear?
“A job? Like….” Her voice tapers off, and we both know what she was going to say.
I park the car right outside the back of the bar Julian said to go to and turn the lights off. There’s a very dim streetlight that illuminates the alleyway, making it possible for me to see anyone who walks out that back door.
Turning in my seat, I face Claire. She’s watching me with sadness in her eyes. I have to explain myself before this goes bad, and I risk losing her again.
“When I met you, I was working for this man named Julian. I betrayed him when you were kidnapped to save you. Then when you disappeared, I was pissed and had no idea where you could be. His wife was kidnapped by the same family, and I helped him get her back. A truce formed between us, and he brought me back under his wing. He asked me to do some work for him and earn my way back into his life. He understood why I did what I did, even if he didn’t agree with it. If I don’t do this job, if I let him down, there is no getting away. I’m in the mob, and there is no way out, Claire. I don’t want to scare you or bring you any more pain. After tonight, you will never be brought into my darkness again.”
“Are you going to kill someone?” Her throat bobs.
“Yes,” I tell her, unable to lie. In a second, she’ll see me do it, so what’s the point in hiding it. “I need you to stay in the car, though. Do not get out. No matter what you see.”
She looks mortified but nods her head, yes.
My stomach knots and tightens to the point of pain. I reach across the car and into the glove box, pulling my gun out. The blood in my veins pumps a little faster, and a spark of adrenaline ignites as I lift the weapon.
It feels perfect in my hand. Exhaling, I allow myself to sink into the role of being a killer and reach for the door handle.
Claire’s hand grabs onto my shoulder, halting me. “Please, be careful,” she says, her entire body tight.
“I’ll be fine. Stay in the car, please,” I say and push the door open. Right as I step out of the car, the backdoor to the bar opens, and the person I’m looking for comes stumbling out. I close the door to the SUV without looking back at Claire and approach the woman.
Killing women is my least favorite thing to do. It affects me differently, makes me feel weak and sick. Like I’m a bastard or something.
My boots slap against the pavement with each step I take.
“Hey,” I yell, causing the woman to stop in her tracks.
I need to get a good look at her to verify so I don’t end up killing an innocent person. I pull out my cell phone and pull up the image attached to the message.
My eyes scan the picture, like I’m taking a photo of it: heart-shaped face, dark hair, green eyes, and full lips. The woman in this picture appears young and happy. I don’t care to know what got her to this point in life. Usually, it involves drugs or a debt that was left unpaid, and as sad as it is, someone else’s problems aren’t my own. In my eyes, this is merely a job.
“Excuse me?” The woman narrows her gaze at me as she whirls around. We’re less than five feet away from each other now.
Green eyes that are dull and lacking life. Brown matted hair that could use a washing and brush. Her face is sunken in, and there are dark bags under her eyes.