Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“I’m really not. I’ve just come to accept that it’s over. That’s it for the best. He either would have had to make sacrifices to be with me or I would have had to make sacrifices to be with him, and that’s not how a relationship should be.” The fact that we’d had no contact whatsoever made it easier too. If I saw his handsome face, it would probably evoke all the feelings I’d worked so hard to bury. “It’s over. And it’s okay that it’s over.”
I was at the shop, taking in a dress to my client’s exact measurements. It was the end of summer, so the tourists had finally started to dissipate, but the heat lingered. It’d been a few weeks since Benton had paid me an unexpected visit.
I wished he hadn’t—because it only made me feel worse.
I wanted nothing to do with his world.
I didn’t want any reminder that our relationship had ever been real.
My phone started to ring, and I almost didn’t notice because my thoughts were so deep. I thought of our first kiss. I remembered the way he looked at me from across the room. I remembered the way he made me feel loved without ever saying the actual words. A series of images and emotions flashed by.
Then the phone caught my attention.
It was Victor.
Bartholomew disappeared from my mind, and I wondered if my father had suffered from a heart attack or a stroke. There was no other reason Victor would call me. My father was either dead or in the hospital.
I took the call. “Victor, what’s going on?”
He whispered, like he was in a compromised position. “I have less than thirty seconds, so just listen.”
Oh fuck.
“Leonardo just called a hit on Bartholomew. We’re about to strike his apartment. I don’t know why I decided to tell you this, but I thought you should know.”
25
BARTHOLOMEW
I’d just stepped out of my gym when I heard it.
Thud.
My eyes lifted to the floor above mine.
It sounded like a body.
I pulled out my phone and checked the alarm system. It was disabled. The panic button hadn’t been pushed. But the system said the front door had opened—and it was still open. I fired off a quick text to Bleu. There’s been a hit on my apartment. Bring backup. I slid the phone into my pocket then stepped back into the gym. A rifle with extra rounds was stowed underneath one of the machines. A bulletproof vest was secured under another. I strapped the vest to my bare chest then poked my head out into the hallway with the rifle in my hands.
Thud.
They’d made it past my security. Prevented my staff from hitting the panic button. And now they combed my apartment, silently taking out my men one by one in the hope of catching me off guard in my bedroom.
I would normally be asleep at this time of day, but sleep didn’t come easy for me anymore. I moved down the hallway and scanned the rooms, looking for my first victim. I approached the first one from behind. With a vest strapped to his chest and dressed in all black, he wore nothing distinguishable to identify his boss. I slammed the butt of my gun into the back of his head then caught him before he collapsed. I dragged him into an empty bedroom and left him on the rug.
Thud.
My apartment contained twelve of my men altogether, and I had no idea how many they’d already gotten. The fact that not a single shot had been fired told me none of my guys had the slightest idea what was happening.
I was on my own—until Bleu showed up with backup.
The best thing I could do was stay hidden until Bleu got there.
Twenty minutes came and went, and nothing happened.
Bleu must be dead. I texted other guys, and help was coming, but I’d wasted more time than I could afford.
Then Laura called me.
Out of the fucking blue.
I couldn’t answer it, so I switched the phone to silent.
Footsteps grew louder.
“He’s in here.”
I ducked into a room and pressed against the wall.
“Bleu says he hasn’t left.”
The shock was so harsh I forgot to breathe.
Bleu.
He’d fucked me.
I was trapped with god knew how many men, and I only had minutes, maybe seconds, before they found me. I could have taken the opportunity to speak to the person who actually mattered before I was shot—but I’d ignored her call.
The footsteps grew louder.
“Check all the rooms. He’s hiding somewhere—like a coward.”
I recognized that voice. Just took me a second.
Leonardo.
Fucking Leonardo.
I moved into the hallway and fired, ready to kill him first so he wouldn’t have the pleasure of watching me die. I sprayed bullets everywhere, taking down the men in the front. I spun around and fired in the opposite direction, but I wasn’t quick enough. A knife dug deep into my side, so much more painful than a superficial bullet wound. I was knocked off-balance—and then I fell.