Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“Like a bounty hunter,” she said.
He chuckled. “Kind of.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun. You travel?”
“A lot.”
“Where to?”
“Most places.”
Callie reached out, gripping his arm. “Italy?”
“Yes.”
“Spain?”
“Yes.”
“France?”
“Yes.”
“England?”
“Yes, and many more places.”
“That is incredible.”
“You haven’t traveled?” he asked.
“Nah, not really. My parents used to live in a small town when I was a kid, but that was so long ago, I can’t even remember it … but they had pictures and stuff. I think my dad lost his job, and they had no choice but to move where the jobs were, and that’s why we came to the city. I pretty much grew up here and I’ve never left.”
“Do you ever want to go back to the small town?” he asked.
Why are you getting to know her?
You’re going to kill her. She is nothing but a job.
Callie hadn’t even noticed that he’d led her further away from any crowds. There was no coffee venue close by, but there were abandoned buildings. This was the seedy part of the city. Each place had one, where the darkness and harsh reality of life hadn’t been kind to them.
He was weaponed up. A gun nestled against his back, a knife strapped to his ankle. He never left his place without tooling up. Callie was open. It would be so easy to take her out.
“No, I don’t,” Callie said. “I mean, sometimes I think about traveling. I’ve been able to get steady work, but I was fired from my last job, which sucked, and the analytical one took me two days to get. I’m advance paid on my rent, and of course I like the Sunday knitting group. It’s a lot of fun.”
“Why do you sit on the bench?” he asked, stopping.
Callie walked one more step before realizing that he’d stopped. She quickly moved back toward him.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Why do you sit on the bench? You’re not close to the group. You don’t seem to want to be part of it.”
“I do. It’s why I’m there.”
“But you keep your distance.”
He noticed she started to play with her hands. Ruin had an overwhelming urge to touch her. To calm her.
“I … it has always been easier for me to sit in the back. I’m not great with conversation, and I only joined a short time ago. I … I … don’t make friends easily.”She looked down at the floor and then tilted her head back to look at him. “That’s why I sit in the back, but it is progress.”
“What does your boyfriend say about this?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“You don’t?” He knew all of this already, but he wanted to keep her talking.
Her death would be swift and quick. She wouldn’t feel a thing.
“No, I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
He reached for the gun at the base of his back, and stopped.
You don’t want to kill her.
“Never had a boyfriend?”
Callie covered her cheeks, which he noticed had started to take on a pretty blush. “No, no, I haven’t.” She shook herself and looked around where they stood. “I don’t think there’s any coffee here. It’s time for us to go.”
She made a couple of steps and he reached out and grabbed her. He could snap her neck. It would be so easy. He’d killed men with stronger, thicker-looking necks.
“Why haven’t you had a boyfriend?” he asked.
Callie hesitated and glanced down at where he held onto her arm, before lifting her gaze up to his. He wouldn’t let her go. He had no desire to. She was so beautiful. What did you do to get on the kill list?
“You want to know why I’ve never had a boyfriend? Is that normal?”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Callie.”
“No, I’m not. I’m frumpy and ugly, and I’m boring.”
He shook his head and closed the distance between them. Hearing those words from her sweet lips were like poison to his.
Not today. Ruin wasn’t going to kill her today.
“Who said that kind of shit?”
“I’ve been told it many times,” Callie said. “I don’t date. I don’t go out. I … I work and I knit. Occasionally I read a book or watch a movie.” She nibbled her lip. “But that’s all.”
Ruin stared at her with only one question in his mind. He didn’t know if he should ask it or not.
“Callie, are you a virgin?” he asked.
She jerked her head up, her eyes wide.
He had his answer. Callie was a virgin. Fuck him. There was no way he could kill her, not right now. Not at this very moment. She had never experienced the pleasure of being with a man.
Does it even matter?
No, it didn’t matter to him. He’d never asked other men and women if they had fucked their way through life. Callie was different. From the moment Dante had told him to execute her, everything had been different. He’d seen many photographs of people he had to kill, and he didn’t need an explanation. He did it. And he got paid to do it. He was good at what he did. He made mistakes disappear. Problems fade. And he was a wealthy man because of it, but taking out Callie, he just couldn’t do it.