Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
“Put her back in the car,” I order the man.
He freezes when he sees me. Not that there is a lot to see. I’m in all black with the hood of my hoodie pulled up to hide part of my face and hair. He stares at the gun but sizes me up. He knows I’m female and small.
I pull the gun off him and point it at the doorknob to the two-story warehouse and fire, hitting it before I swing it back toward him, letting him know I’ve got great aim.
“The fuck!” Ocean hisses, both of us knowing the two men inside would have heard that.
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
He steps back, placing the unconscious girl back into the vehicle.
“Close the door.”
He slams it shut. “Who are you?” he asks as I start to move around the back of the vehicle.
“Toss me the keys.” He does.
I snatch them from the air as the two asshats from the warehouse come peeking out the front door to see what’s going on. The wind blows, and my fucking hood falls back, but our eyes lock, and something about him is familiar.
“Who I am is the person saving your life,” I tell him before I fire one shot into his shoulder and a second into his outer thigh. He collapses to the ground as I run and jump into the car. He can’t chase me, but he also can't rush into that warehouse either. I floor it.
“What’s going on?” I ask Ocean.
“He’s lying on the ground. The dipshits have come out to help him.”
“I guess he saved their lives.” I sigh as I flip open the remote and push the button. The building blows. I watch in the rearview mirror as it goes up in flames.
“He might have saved their lives, but they’re not going to look pretty anymore.” Ocean chuckles.
“I guess I can cancel your pickup?” Magic chimes in.
“No, move it to Midwestern Hospital. I’m dropping this car there in the emergency bay with the girl.” I glance over at her. She can’t be but sixteen. I should have shot him in the head.
“Did you get a better image of his face?” I ask.
“I think. I’ll run it and see what I can find,” Ocean responds.
“There’s a gas station two blocks from the hospital. I'll have the car there,” Magic informs me. ”Lots of cameras at hospitals, Rebel.”
“Then do your magic.”
3
GILLY
There’s an itch at the back of my brain.
I’m trying to work through disentangling Larone assets so we can feed the Corlettis into the FBI’s machine via an informant, but when I should be examining shell companies and detangling corporate webs, my mind wanders. Back to her.
I glance at my door. Not that she’ll be coming through it. I’m at my office, the large pool house adjacent to the Palermo mansion. It serves as my home most of the time–my actual house a few miles from here, neglected for the most part.
The door doesn’t open. The itch in my brain only grows.
“What the fuck?” I slam my laptop closed and lean back, rubbing my temples as I glance at my watch. It’s after midnight. I could call it for the evening and go to bed. It might be wise, but I don’t feel like turning in. What I feel like doing is … It’s the one thing I can’t do. I can’t go to Carina.
It doesn’t matter that I imagine what her touch would feel like, how she’d moan as I made her writhe with my tongue, my fingers, my cock. None of that matters. Because she’s Antonio’s sister. Because she’s way too young for me. There are a million other reasons, too, mostly having to do with the fact that I live on the edge of a knife. Violence surrounds me. I may not relish it the way Butcher does, but I’m no stranger to it. I’ve taken lives. There’s blood on my hands, and that’s something I’d never want to taint Carina with.
She’s too young, too naïve to know about the hard truths of this world. She puts up a sassy front, but she doesn’t know how bad things can truly be. The bloodshed, the bullshit, the fucking dehumanization that occurs far too often. It’s better if she stays far away from it. And me.
I crack my neck, the itch in the back of my neck growing into a buzzing sensation, like bees are making a home in my cranium. That’s all I can take. I stand and stride to the door, yank it open, and stare across the lighted surface of the pool, up past the hedges around the first floor, and higher to a double set of windows that reflect the sliver moon.
Carina’s room.
It’s dark. As it should be. She should be asleep, dreaming of college and getting away from all the bad shit that comes with the Palermo family name.