Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I know, it’s some Batman super-villain shit.” Lanzo crosses his arms, staring at the shops. “This is the hard part though. If I’m wrong and we break in there, Burian will realize we’re onto him and move. Hell, if we’re right and break in there, it still might be a trap.”
“What are the chances of that?”
“Hard to say exactly.” He leans forward. “But I don’t want to find out.”
“What, then? We do nothing?”
“We wait.” He frowns into the distance, falling into silence.
I watch the store along with him, trying not to think about the people inside. Those are real humans, with lives, interior worlds, with loves and hopes and dreams. One of them has no fingers. He’s probably dead. The other likely isn’t going to be alive for much longer. No matter what happens, this is a nightmare. Plain and simple, a nightmare.
“We should call Craig.” The words leave my mouth before I think about them. Lanzo scowls at me, clearly not happy with my suggestion, but I push forward. “He’s got resources we can use. If Burian’s in there, instead of trying to sneak in alone, you could go in there with a dozen FBI agents.”
“And risk Burian getting away in the chaos? I don’t think so.” Lanzo grunts as he leans back. “Burian’s escaped impossible situations before. I don’t want this to be just another close call.”
I reach over suddenly. We only just made up, but I have the intense, unyielding desire to run my fingers down his bare chest, to feel him spanks my ass with a firm palm, to taste his tongue on my lips. To feel his weight. To moan under his confident hands.
And the idea of losing that is like a spike in my heart.
“What if we didn’t do this?” I talk quickly before he can interrupt me. “What if we told Craig and the feds where to find Burian then let them deal with him? If he gets away, it wouldn’t be your fault. You’ve done everything required and then some. Burian isn’t your problem to solve, Lanzo. You don’t owe the world your life.”
He watches me carefully. I can see the strain on his face, though I’m not sure what it means. “I was worried about this,” he says, turning his cheek to stare out the window.
“I’m not trying to make you soft, I’m only trying to make you see that you don’t need to die here.”
“I don’t plan on dying, my lovely Renata.” He smiles slightly. “But it feels good knowing you’re worried about me.”
“Of course I’m worried about you. I’m worried about everyone. Quit thinking you’re so special.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Even in a moment like this, you can’t help yourself, can you? Always with the little barbs.”
I blink back tears. “Please, Lanzo. You don’t have to throw yourself away.”
He’s silent for a long moment, only staring out the window toward the closed-down toy store. I want to say more—I want to tell him how badly I need a future with him. How it kills me to think we’re hurtling toward the end of us, one way or another. Through death or something else. I want more, I’m greedy for more, but it’s not fair of me to demand it.
Yet I’ll demand it anyway, because I want this.
“Thank you,” he says, looking over at me, his eyes sad. It breaks my heart. “Nobody’s ever given a shit about me like this before.”
“I care,” I say, swallowing another joke at his expense. “I really care.”
He nods slowly. He takes a slow breath. “I really care too.”
“Then what should we do?”
Finally, he leans closer, kissing my cheek. “I’ll call Craig.”
Hope swells in my chest. “Really?”
“I’m not stopping,” he says at the expression on my face. Some of that hope stalls and fails to build. But it doesn’t dissipate. “But I’ll work with the feds on this. That’s the best I can offer.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
He nods and kisses me one more time before picking up the phone.
Chapter 37
Lanzo
An FBI agent, a mafia boss, and an international hacker/assassin/mercenary sit down for coffee. That’s the start of a shitty joke. Except Renata’s also here, and she’s just my girlfriend, or whatever we’ve decided to call each other, and I’m not sure how to fit her into the format.
Craig keeps giving Carmine looks from behind his coffee mug like the fed wants to arrest the mobster on the spot. Meanwhile, I try to keep things civil by drawing their attention back to the case at hand. “We know where he’s hiding,” I say, jabbing a finger down onto the rough map I drew up on some napkins. “Chances are he’s got the guys in there.”
“We should be kicking down that door right now.” Craig glares at us, but he’s not in any shape to go storming anywhere. Bags hang under his eyes and he’s thin, like he hasn’t slept or eaten much in days. I also suspect he’s been behind a desk for a while now and doesn’t know a damn thing about field work anymore. “My partner might still be alive.”