Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
But standing here now, it all makes sense. This was never about retaliation for Joey’s death but about my mother manipulating me into doing her bidding.
Another one of her games.
How could I be so stupid in not realizing this sooner?
Oh God, how I hate her.
She let Donnie rape me.
She didn’t believe me when I confided in her.
But in a moment of weakness following Joey’s death, I’d pushed it all aside when she’d dangled the affection I craved in front of me, and like a junkie, I’d sold my soul for a hit.
“Ares is a decent guy, he didn’t do this,” I say adamantly. “And I won’t be responsible for taking an innocent man’s life.”
Before she can say anything else, Connor, fiancé extraordinaire, walks into the room. He’s wearing suit pants and a button-up that’s too tight. Gold gleams on his fingers, and his oily ginger hair is slicked back off his forehead, exposing his receding hairline.
I don’t like Connor. He thinks he’s Mr. All That, but he’s so not.
There is something a little slimy about him.
But he’s a perfect fit for my mother. They’re both as delusional and classless as the other.
In a perfect world, they’d fall into a big well of their hatefulness and disappear.
“You’re just in time, Connor,” she says. “Rory says she’s changed her mind.”
“About what?” He takes mom’s cigarette from her hand and sits on the couch. He spreads his arms along the back, parts his legs like he’s king of the house, and gives me a smug look that gives me goosebumps.
Mom lights herself a new cigarette. “Apparently, she’s changed her mind about taking care of that Ares prick.”
He pauses the cigarette at his lips. “Are you fucking kidding? You know what I had to do to get that information, and now you’re telling me you’re backing out?”
“I think your information is wrong.”
Connor stands, turning red with sudden fury. He doesn’t appreciate being told he’s wrong.
He points the burning cigarette at me. “You listen to me, kid. I’m a big fucking deal around here, and I’ve got connections coming out of my asshole, so when I tell you something, you had better believe that it is one hundred percent fact. This Ares asshole was the hitman of choice for the De Kysa family. You remember them? They’re the biggest mafia in these parts, and they spill blood all over these streets for whatever goddamn reason they want. They ordered the hit, and Ares completed the job. My contacts say so. So don’t you fucking dare doubt it. That cunt killed our Joey. You can take that to the fucking bank.”
Our Joey.
That’s rich.
He didn’t even know Joey, and the only reason he is being so adamant about this is to win favor with my mother.
My mother’s beauty does the most stupid things to men.
“Why would they want Joey dead? It doesn’t make sense,” I say.
In the corner of my eye, I see mom shift restlessly and turn away to stare out the window.
I look at her, a strange sensation creeping up my spine. “What aren’t you telling me?”
But she refuses to answer. Instead, she bites on a long, fake nail.
I turn to Connor. “Why the fuck did the De Kysas order a hit on Joey, and why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”
I was simply told who killed him and then handed a photograph with a name and address scrawled on the back. I was told not to ask questions and get it done.
“Why is there so much secrecy surrounding his death?”
Connor sucks on his cigarette. “Because there are bigger things at play, and you don’t need to know about them.”
“Does it really matter why they killed him?” My mom snaps. “Your brother is dead, and someone has to pay.”
“And you said you’d take care of it,” Connor reminds me, smoke puffing out of his mouth as he talks. “And either you take care of it, or we send someone else to do it.”
If they send someone else to do it, Ares will be dead by the time I get back to Tennessee this afternoon.
“That won’t be necessary,” I reply quickly.
Connor knows a lot of thugs who’ll do it for one of the rolls of money stashed in the freezer. And it won’t be quick. It’ll be messy and bloody.
I need some time to figure this out.
Find out what the fuck really happened.
“Good, then I expect it done by the end of the week.” He reaches down to stub out his cigarette in the glass ashtray on the coffee table. When he straightens, he tries to unnerve me with a menacing look. “No more fucking around… you hear me? You get it done, or I will.”
He strides out of the room, and I barely restrain from rolling my eyes. It was meant to be a dramatic exit, I’m sure, but he tries too hard to be intimidating to actually be intimidating.