Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Sure. Find me a quarter on the ground.”
He laughs, but squints at the computer. “You know, if I feed the AI software the right data—”
“I’m kidding. Thanks, Zach.”
I leave the security room before the guy can nerd out. He’s one of the most competent employees we have though, and I like him very much, but there’s only so much tech talk I can deal with.
The elevator takes me down to casino level. I head across the gaming floor, stopping a couple times when a boss comes over and talks to me about some problem or other. I’m not technically a part of the Sunrise, but I’m one of the Costa brothers, which means I’m as close to the top of the pyramid as it gets. But finally, I reach the bar, just in time to see Fallon turning around and staring at some big guy in a puffer jacket.
He’s standing right in front of her. He says something I can’t hear and she looks confused, her eyebrows knit. She doesn’t see me—she’s busy staring at the guy talking to her. I pick up my pace as a bad feeling rolls into my guts.
Fallon leans back as the guy reaches into his waistband.
I start running.
He draws a gun. Pistol, probably nothing more than a little compact .22, not fancy or powerful but enough to kill at close range.
My heart’s screaming into my throat as I barrel forward, slamming two tourists out of the way, knocking another on his ass when he fails to move fast enough.
The gun’s aimed at my wife’s face, and every inch of me is screaming as I flash back to the moment in the Italian restaurant when those three Grady killers came in, murdering my friends.
Jackson moved first then, he put himself in harm’s way to save my life, but I can’t let him do it again. I can’t let anyone else die because of me, because I’m not fast enough, not strong enough, not willing to take a bullet.
I growl, more of a scream, and throw myself at the man and his weapon, hitting him from the side.
The gun goes off, noise cracking through the steady hum of the casino floor.
People are running, shouting, screaming, as my fists come down into the man’s face, pounding him without thinking.
I’m bloody, he’s bloody, and I’m in a blind rage, only barely conscious enough to rip the gun from his limp grasp and toss it aside.
I hit him, over and over, shouting in his face, you won’t hurt my wife, roaring it like a monster, all humanity lost, until I feel people grab me and drag me back. I struggle, but then I see the man’s body lying on the floor, his face broken in, his teeth gone, his mouth a cavity of blood, his nose cracked and wrecked, his eyes pulverized, his limbs twitching. Dead or about to be dead.
“She’s safe.” It’s Zach and his people. A swarm of them, mostly tending to the corpse I left on the floor, the rest pushing the crowds back, making sure nobody’s taking pictures, controlling the area. “We got her. She’s okay.”
“Where?” I snarl, looking around.
“Jayson, you’re a mess. We need to get you cleaned up.”
“Where the fuck is my wife?”
“Here. Over here.” Zach gestures toward the bar where Fallon’s standing off to the side, covered by three big thugs with weapons drawn, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide.
I go to her. I shove past the guards. She flinches back, but I don’t care about that. I grab her forearms, gripping them tight, my fingers leaving red prints on her pale skin.
“Are you okay?” I ask, holding tight. I shake her slightly, desperate. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she manages. “No, I’m okay. I’m fine.”
“Thank fucking god.”
“You’re covered in blood.”
I look down at myself. She’s right, I’m a mess. Zach was right too—I should probably get cleaned up. There are going to be cops, statements, a bunch of headaches.
But all I care about is her.
“What happened?” I ask, leaning closer to her. “Tell me who that was.”
“I don’t know,” she says, her voice quiet and choked with emotion. “I’m not—” She shakes her head, tears rolling down her face.
“What did he say?”
“My name. My old last name. Then he said he was sorry before he took the gun out.”
“Fuck,” I say softly.
“Jayson—he had an Irish accent. He was Irish.”
The horror of that settles into my stomach and I pull her against me, holding her tight, despite the blood and the crowd, despite everything, and she sobs into my shoulder.
Chapter 26
Fallon
“How the fuck did this happen?” Jayson remains rigid at the back of Adler’s office. His voice rolls like thunder from the back of his throat. He’s in clean clothes, the blood freshly washed from his skin. I was there with him in the bathroom, and when he was finished, he cleaned me next.