Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
He understands me, and that’s a drug even more powerful than his kisses.
I shake my head and take Ted’s photo off my murder board. Because he’s dead. Eliminated. I rip it for good measure, and the act of tearing through the middle of his face gives me more satisfaction than I could ever imagine.
“So these are the men I want dead,” I say with new confidence, meeting his gaze head-on. “Miles Brown. He’s the one who pushed me down the stairs. Works night shifts at a mall. Lives with his mother.” I then point to the photo of a man with a big nose and long, greasy hair. “Otto Grass. He cut my mother’s throat. Spent two months in jail for domestic violence, but he’s back out. Has a wife and three kids.” Finally, I move on to the picture of a man whose eyes I’d like to carve out for the violence he inflicted on my family. “And last, but definitely not least, this fucking bastard, Patrick Galanis. He’s the one who started it all. Broke my grandma’s arm, wanted money. He’s now a pastor in Fisher Lake.”
Saint’s inquisitive gaze slides to the photo of a clean-cut man with dark hair and pale blue eyes.
I’m breathing hard, unable to calm down. “I hate them so much.”
Saint studies the pictures, and I can practically hear his mind working. We barely know each other, yet I already have a feeling I know what to anticipate. Is that strange?
“The pastor, I take it he acts as if it’s all behind him?”
I slide my hand into his, needing the closeness to soothe my nerves. “I never dared to actually visit his congregation, but I would assume so.”
Saint’s fingers are smooth, warm and gentle as they rub against mine, and he pulls me close. “If he started it, he should be the next mark. I will give him to you.”
I choke on a laugh, pointing to my board. “It’s like an advent calendar.”
“If you want his head recreated in chocolate, I can do that. We can make a mold before we dispose of it.”
I don’t know if I love or hate the fact that I’m not sure whether it’s a joke, but when he winks, I find myself grinning at him and rubbing his chest yet again. Because he might be a monster who killed more people than he can remember, but he cares for my revenge in ways no one’s ever done.
“That’s disgusting, but I appreciate it. All I want is to stab him in the heart. So he knows how I feel every single day.”
Is it wrong to be horny for Saint right now? Probably. But I push him back on the sofa and straddle his lap anyway.
He chuckles as his hands close on my ass. Hazel eyes, wide and joyful, watch me as he swallows. “Oh, you really are like me. Nothing’s hotter than righteous anger. And you have so much of it,” he whispers, rolling his hips so his cock brushes against my balls.
I rock against him like I’m in heat, and I can’t get enough of his lips. “I don’t think my ass can take another round just yet, but you can start teaching me how to deep throat,” I whisper, watching his pupils dilate.
Oh, he is definitely as much into that as he is into my revenge quest.
Chapter 16
Saint
Sundays are my least favorite days. I might not be religious, but my family used to be, and I always get melancholic when walking past a church filled with people singing hymns. It takes me back to when my mother and father insisted I need to accompany them to mass each week for as long as I lived under their roof. I used to be so angry about it, but now I sometimes feel bad about expressing it when they were still alive.
If the past could be changed, I’d have likely never become a professional killer. Who knows, maybe I’d be cooking for a living instead, counting people’s taxes, or doing something equally mundane? Maybe I would have liked mundane.
The life I lead so far has been a lonely one, but Rowan is the light at the end of that dark, cold tunnel, and if he needs me to sit on a bench and watch a white church in the middle of a small town, I’m going to do it. After all, not that much time remains until the deadline for delivering three more bodies to my new lover’s feet.
He watches the church, and I watch him. His lips look a bit plumper from the side, and while this makes him even cuter, his dark gaze is so intense, he could probably kill with his stare alone if Father Patrick stepped out of the church. I can’t get enough of him.