Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
It wasn’t hard to figure out. Crew Ledger is a messy guy and leaves trails of breadcrumbs everywhere he goes. It was only a matter of putting the pieces together, and when you’re as observant as I am, finding out people’s dirty little secrets comes as natural as breathing. And Crew Ledger, he’s about as bad as they come. But what’s worse is the way he has everybody fooled, especially Kyah.
To be fair, it’s not as though he’s the mastermind behind the organization. No, that honor goes to his big brother, Mason Ledger, the number one organized crime boss in the state. He specializes in human trafficking. Crew, bless his cotton socks, resisted working for the bastard for quite some time, but desperate men do desperate things, and over the past year, Crew has taken to the family business like a duck to water.
Like I said, piece of shit.
But today, the family business is about to experience one hell of a setback.
I’m under no illusion. I know I’m no better than that asshole. My chosen career isn’t exactly winning me any awards, but at least a woman knows what she’s getting when she interacts with the man who sneaks through her bedroom window. Crew Ledger pretends he’s a knight in shining armor, but then he does shit like beat his woman behind closed doors.
I mean sure, I might enjoy a little murder here and there, and it might get me off in a way sex never could, but at least I’m not Crew Ledger.
My gaze trails down the street, watching as Kyah disappears around the corner, and the second she’s completely out of sight, I step out of the shadows, the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins.
God, I love this.
The excitement pulses through me, and I have to keep myself from breaking into a sprint, using the short walk across the street to figure out a game plan. I usually go into this with caution, never unprepared, always making sure I have the tools required to clean up after myself and keep my identity hidden. But Kyah’s got me all fucked up.
I’m being reckless and rushing into this. I don’t usually get off on killing men, and yet the image of Crew’s fist cracking against Kyah’s jaw spurs me on. Hell, just knowing what he and his brother have planned for her has me ready to slaughter him like fucking cattle.
No one touches what’s mine.
I go through my options, figuring out how to do this while mentally mapping the security cameras inside the shop. There’s one in each corner. I’m going to have to keep my head down, perhaps stage a break-in. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do it. Like I said, it’s reckless, but there’s no stopping me now.
Reaching the sidewalk, I pull the sleeves of my black hoodie down over my hands before reaching for the door handle, being careful not to leave a single fingerprint behind. I’ve always been cautious with my kills, making sure the feds can’t link this shit back to me, and I’m not about to start making their job easier now.
Shoving past the door, it opens wide, and the bell chimes through the small shop.
“We’re closed,” Crew slurs from somewhere in the back.
Not responding, I keep my head down and continue through the shop as my gaze shoots from left to right to quickly figure out a game plan. It’s gonna be messy, but the good ones always are.
Hearing that I haven’t left, Crew stands, whipping around with his glassy stare. “I said we’re closed,” he spits, wobbling on his feet, the bottle of whiskey almost empty on his table.
A grin splits my face. This is going to be better than I anticipated.
Striding past Big Jim’s station, I swipe everything off his table and watch as ink bottles scatter and shatter across the room, saturating the floor with vibrant colors.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Crew growls, storming toward me as I casually stride around Big Jim’s station, not daring to venture over to Kyah’s. After all, this is going to be messy, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving something like this for her to clean up.
Crew reaches for me, but I quickly sidestep, almost laughing in his face over how easy it is. Though I’m sure it has everything to do with the whiskey making its way through his bloodstream. Any other day, he’d be a good match. Hell, he might even make me sweat for a minute, but not today. He’s sloppy. Wasted. It’s pathetic.
Leaning my ass against Big Jim’s tattooing chair, I evade Crew again. It’s a child’s game of cat and mouse at this point, and it only pisses him off as he catches himself against the table.
My covered hand hovers over the tattoo gun left on the small tray table beside me, and catching the movement, Crew narrows his gaze, finally realizing he has a reason to be suspicious. “I . . . I know you,” he says, visibly swallowing, and though he’s spoken the words and made the statement, I see he’s still trying to figure out where the fuck he knows me from. But considering the shop front has a floor-to-ceiling window for anyone to look into, I don’t have time to wait for him to figure it out. I need to make this fast.