Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“Mr. Lassiter, are the terms of the settlement agreeable for you and your client?” Shit! How the fuck should I know. Turning toward him, I see my client nod his head and I grab the document.
“It seems so.”
“Very well. If you gentlemen can just sign we can get this wrapped up.” Thank fuck. I have no damn clue what just happened here. While Marty signs on the dotted line, I pull my phone from the pocket to check and make sure I haven’t missed any calls or texts. Nothing. Well, I guess that is good news. “If there is nothing else. Mr. Lassiter. Mr. Smith.” we all shake hands and walk out of my conference room.
“Fuck it. I need to hear her voice.” Relenting, I dial her number and I get a dial tone. Calm down Dario. Don’t jump to conclusions. She might just be in a place with a shotty signal. Give it two minutes. Screw that I am going to dial my sister's number.
“Boss!” Click and Lola come storming into my office and I know. I fucking know. I move right to the door asking no questions, giving no answers.
“Tell me.” getting in the car my mind is going crazy.
“We figured out who it is. It’s Horace.” Son of a bitch. “What else. TELL ME!” I know they aren’t telling me something because they are both too quiet.
“It’s Anais. She’s dead.”
“That is impossible. IT’S FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE CLICK!” I scream banging my hands on the seat. “She is with Jewel.” I call her phone again and it still doesn’t connect. This is not fucking happening.
“Hey big brother. What’s up?” My sister answers her phone, so I know something is wrong with my Queen.
“Where is Jewel? Is she still with you?”
“No. She went home almost an hour ago.” Please God no.
“Who picked her up? Was she with a woman?”
“Actually, I am not sure. Whoever it was, never got out to open the door for her.” fuck. Fuck. FUCK!! My mind is breaking apart in twenty different directions trying to piece this together.
“Click what the fuck happened. How did this get past us?”
“Not sure, boss. When the Tech dumped Maggiano’s phone, it took him some time, but he called me earlier to let me know he was able to trace a series of messages between Maggiano, Horace and Tomasso. I called Anais first to alert her to the discovery and when I got no answer, I pinged her watch. She was behind the shopping center dumpster. She had been garroted.”
“Click, where is she? Where is she?” I can’t stop asking the same question as my heart begins to harden, the blood inside of it turning to volcanic ash. I am preparing for the worst, knowing that this is the only way they can hurt me.
“Someone has jammed her phone. We can’t get a signal to trace her.” he says the last with remorse and resolve.
“I want every last one of them...DEAD!!! I WANT THEM FOUND!!! I WANT THEIR HEADS… CLICK!!!” I want their blood and organs in my hands. Oh God. What did I do? My phone. I can distantly hear Lola on the phone with someone, but my mind is slowly slipping.
“Oh God. Is she? No. "We are almost there.”
“Who was that?” my voice comes out shaky and dry.
“It was Scar. He found Horace. He’s dead. He... he shot Jewel, Dario. Scar has called 911. He said to meet him at the hospital.” I recall if I responded or not. With every word she uttered, pieces of me chipped away. I did this to her. I could have plucked her from the streets, set her up with a trust fund and a place to live and walked away. At least she would have been safe. But no. I’m a selfish, motherfucker and I just had to have her and now...we are both dying.
“Is she... is she dead.”
“He says she had a pulse, but she was bleeding out. Boss, she is going to need you to be strong now more than ever. If she pulls through this, she is going to need the Dario we all know and the one she knows.” I know what she is saying, but the guilt is already starting to erode inside.
Walking into the ER, it feels like a processional. Like the moment after you have lost it all and now there is nothing left. “Are you Mr. Lassiter?”
“Yes.”
“Please follow me.” The nurse leads me toward the surgery wing and into a set of doors. It isn’t until I walk fully through that I see her, on a table preparing for surgery, machines coming out of her body and beeping.
“How is she?”
“I am not going to lie to you. Your fiancée has lost a lot of blood. At the angle in which she was shot, the bullet pierced her lung. It collapsed. We are going in to remove the bullet and try to repair the lung. Mr. Lassiter, I don’t know how to say this, but due to the seriousness of this procedure, it might come down to a choice of whether to save your fiancée using medicines or measures which could kill the fetus or not. I need to know what you want me to do.” Fetus? Did she just say fetus?