Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Molly’s place?” Trace stepped next to me.
Molly Easter was good friends with Jess, and they’d gotten closer until Kelly’s death. I didn’t know the current state of their friendship, but seeing Elijah falter in Trace’s presence, I was taking that he worried about sharing.
“Is she okay?”
He nodded, his eyes darting back to Trace again.
Right. She was alive, but something more had happened.
I turned to Trace. “I’ll handle this.”
“Molly—”
“Marcus Easter is owned by my family. I’ll handle this.”
“You told me you’d handle that.” Trace’s jaw clenched as he pointed out the one-way mirror/window.
“Molly falls under my territory.”
“She’s friends with Jess.”
“They’re not that close, and you know it.” They were friends, but I wasn’t totally lying. They weren’t best of friends, not like Jess and Kelly, not like Trace and me. “Her father’s debt to my family extends beyond the grave at this point. I will handle it.”
“Ash—”
“I’ve been lenient regarding Kelly’s killer, but not with this one.” My tone was firm, and my gut sharpened because he had better not push this. Not with Molly.
Reading me, Trace nodded and stepped away. “Fine, but when Jess finds out, I’m telling her to call you directly. You can answer to her about Molly.”
A new fire had started in my stomach.
It was low and simmering, but it was always there when Molly Easter came into play. I smiled, knowing how deadly that would look because that was how I felt inside. Deadly. Lethal. And a part of me wanted to come out to play.
Unlike Trace, I liked being cruel. I liked killing. I liked the ruthlessness of this world, but I’d been holding back for him, for my brotherhood with him, for his woman, for my very delicate relationship with Jess, but Molly—she was a whole other factor.
Seeing that, he cursed softly and shook his head. “Don’t break this one.”
Another scream sounded out from the man, and I went back to the mirror as I heard Trace leave.
The guy arched backward, his back almost breaking in half as my man held a knife to his stomach. I saw the blood dripping down, and finally, finally, a part of me was being let free.
I inhaled the freedom, but I knew a dead end when I heard it.
Elijah was still in the room, waiting for my order. I gave it: “Release the man.”
“Kill him or . . . ?”
Our men couldn’t be identified, but it wouldn’t matter. This man wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t dare, so I shook my head. “Drop him off at the doctor’s parking spot. She can take care of him for us.”
“Will do.”
“Elijah.”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure to call ahead so the security cameras are turned off.”
“Got it.”
But it wouldn’t matter because there’d be no investigation into the man who was almost killed by torture. There wouldn’t be because everyone already knew who’d done it.
Me.
CHAPTER THREE
MOLLY
“Okay.” Dr. Sandquist was rubbing the top of her nose where it flattened between her eyebrows, and she had her other arm wrapped around herself. Her elbow was resting on her own arm. She looked tired, but that could’ve been because it was four in the morning.
I first met Nea Sandquist in a pottery class. I met a lot of friends in pottery classes. It was kinda my outlet. I liked to take an edible, put on my headphones, and get all spiritual with the clay. I felt a connection to the movie Ghost that I didn’t think was healthy.
“You are in shock, Miss Easter.”
“Molly,” I piped in, kinda hoping for an edible right now.
She sighed. “Molly. You’re in shock, but it doesn’t look like you’ve been physically harmed. The key you swallowed should make its way out of you within a day or two.” She shared a look with Nurse Sloane, the head honcho of all the nurses at the hospital. “I’d like to introduce you to our social worker. He can help you go through the emotional aftereffects of what happened to you. I’d really, really suggest talking to either Matt, our social worker, or he can refer you to someone else, unless you already know someone you could talk to?”
The two detectives were outside the door, and she glanced over her shoulder at them before her head ducked. She stepped a little closer to me, quieting her voice. “I need to let the police in to question you, but in the meantime, is there anyone you want us to call?”
Sloane closed in on the other side. “Jess, maybe?”
Head honcho. Sloane knew everyone and everything.
I shook my head. “Not unless . . . no.” I changed my mind. “I have time to call her myself. Where are my employees?”
“They were released and sent home after they gave their statements.”
I loved Sloane. I had a mentor crush on her. Sometimes, when I was little and I was brought into this hospital, I liked to pretend that Sloane was my mother growing up. She could put anyone in their place, take charge of any room, and make police jump at her instructions. She was a big part of the reason the two detectives, Worthing and Monteyo, were still outside the room and hadn’t barged in.