Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Which put me relying completely on my other senses.
I felt the air move just a second before a hand closed around my throat.
Panic soared, but I tamped it down.
This was good.
He was close.
I could feel most of him against me.
Which gave me a good target.
I shifted my hand on the handle, tightened my grip, and plunged.
It was a low blow, down by his hip because I didn’t want to risk hitting him somewhere that would allow him to stop me.
It took more force than most people would imagine to stab a knife into someone. More than superficially anyway. And I was trying to do damage.
“Fuck,” he growled, releasing my throat as he stumbled back.
I yanked on the handle, feeling the tension as his muscle and fat tried to hold onto it.
As soon as it was out, I slammed forward again.
And again.
And again.
Blood wet my fingers, slipped down my hand, made my hold sticky on the handle.
But I was too crazed in that moment to care, pulling it out over and over, slamming it back in.
There was a thud as he suddenly fell to the ground.
I followed him, my body coming down on his.
And I just kept plunging in the knife.
His stomach.
His chest.
Over and over.
The definition of overkill.
Especially when his body went limp under mine.
“Cinna!” Joel cried out, making me still.
“What? What is it?” I asked, head whipping around, but my vision was still blurry.
“You can put the knife down, love,” a familiar voice said, making my belly flip-flop. “He’s dead.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dav
The problem with someone as fucking secretive as Cinna was that while I knew the general vicinity of where she lived, I didn’t know any other details.
The cab got caught at a red light, and I lost sight of Cinna.
A frustrated grumble moved through me as I flew out of the cab, eyes scanning the street, hoping I might see her ducking into a building.
But there were no women around. Just a crew of men who, from the looks of things, were dealing or running girls.
Well, most criminals spoke the same language.
Money.
Hopefully I had enough to loosen some lips.
“Yeah, move along, pretty boy. You don’t want what I got,” one of them said as I approached, his laid-back demeanor making me think he was someone in charge.
“I’m looking for a woman,” I said, reaching for my wallet.
“Not my deal. Up around the next corner.”
“Not like that. Someone who lives around here. Cinna. Yay high. Gorgeous. Personality like a cactus.”
The way his lips quirked up let me know he knew exactly who I was talking about.
“Not in the business of selling information either,” he said, shrugging, barely glancing up from his phone.
“She’s family.”
“Then you should know where she lives.”
“Not that kind of family,” I said.
That finally got his attention, making him watch me with scrunched brows.
“Still should probably know where she lives.”
“I know it’s on this street. And I know she’s in some sort of trouble. So tell me, or I’ll have my whole crew down here in five minutes to deal with you.”
“Don’t need to get your panties in a bunch. She’s in here,” he said, waving toward the building he was leaning against. “Came in like her ass was on fire. So I figure you’re not lying. And you better not be. Because I’d rather not be on that chick’s bad side.”
I didn’t waste any more time on him as I made my way to the door, about to hit all the intercoms until someone opened up, until I realized the door wasn’t even latched.
Real safe place.
Banking down my annoyance that she was so careless about her own safety, reminded myself that she was a grown-ass woman who got to make her own decisions, regardless of how asinine I might think they are.
Getting in was easier than I’d been planning.
But finding Cinna, that wasn’t easy.
Sure, there were mailboxes in the lobby, but none of them had her name on it. None of the packages gathered on the table had her address either.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, going into the elevator to go up to the first floor of apartments.
Where I proceeded to start knocking, acting like a clueless, lost visitor, claiming my sister must have given me the wrong apartment number.
The problem was, either no one actually knew Cinna by name, or they just weren’t willing to give out any information.
I made my way up to the second floor, and was waiting for some old lady with a three-pack-a-day habit voice to get to the door when I heard it.
Slamming on the floor above.
Some sort of struggle.
Adrenaline surged through me as I flew down the hallway, going to the stairs because I could run up them faster than the elevator could get to me.
My heart was in my throat, my pulse pounding in my ears, as I imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios of what could be happening to her already. Because I’d been wasting so much time trying to find her.