Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Be her hero.”
My brothers and I will be her filthy villains.
After letting loose a heavy sigh, he nods. “I can do this. I’m going to go right back in there and make sure she stays ahead of him.”
And I’ll be right behind Ty, steering him away from the truth of her location any chance I get.
* * *
Bryant: I want it done. Today.
The text comes from Bryant just as I’m leaving the coffee shop. His demands make me edgy. Set fire to another one of Bryant’s enemy’s building. It’s absolutely the last thing I want to do right now, but I don’t want Bryant knowing we’ve gone off the rails, ignoring his demands for us to drop the Croft job. We’re making our own rules now. The longer he doesn’t realize that, the better.
Me: Yup.
I drive to the location—a sketchy area known for high crime. I’ll probably get my ass shot just for leaving my car. Luckily, I’m packing heat. I dare someone to fuck with me when all I want is to get back to Landry.
Passing the target building, I park a little way up the road in front of an abandoned shop with boarded-up windows. Black hoodies work best for this shit, so I yank one on and pull the hood up over my head. Climbing out, I stuff my gun into my hoodie pocket and then grab my bag from the backseat.
The fires I set aren’t going to bring down an entire building. They’re mainly meant to cause surface damage, involve the authorities, and stall sales or delay construction. I make my way up the stairs to the entry of the empty building. With a grunt, I slam my shoulder into the brittle door. It splinters upon impact of my weight and allows me to kick the broken door the rest of the way in.
Inside, it smells like mildew and piss. It’s littered with trash leftover from the last tenant or vagrants. I unzip my bag, yank out my giant jug of kerosene, and unscrew the cap.
I douse the papery-thin walls and shitty threadbare carpet. Any piles of trash I come across, I make sure to dump kerosene on those, too. The stairs going up are rickety and made of old wood that sags in places. I’m dumping some kerosene on the lower steps when I get the eerie feeling of being watched.
Halting my movements, I crane my neck and listen. No sounds within the building that I can hear. I wait for a moment, but the feeling won’t leave me.
I tug my hood down lower, just in case, and then make my way back to the door. Dumping the rest of the kerosene, I then toss the jug back into the room that now reeks of gaseous fumes, which I must say is a step up from the mildew and piss. I’m basically doing this guy a favor, gutting the building for him.
You’re welcome, man.
The hairs on my neck bristle with awareness. A cursory glance onto the street behind me reveals nothing. I still feel like I’m being watched, though.
If they’re inside, they’re going to quickly want to get out, that’s for damn sure.
Pulling out a box of matches, I strike one against the side of the box. The flame burns hot and bright as I stand in the threshold of the building. It’s strange that a tiny flicker of heat can turn into a monstrous inferno.
Kind of like Landry.
A tiny strike and now she blazes inside me.
I flick the matchstick into the room. It hits kerosene-drenched carpet and briefly turns a captivating blue before it spreads in a flash, transforming into beautiful shades of oranges, yellows, and reds.
Waves of heat pulse toward me, reaching to just where I’m standing on a slab of concrete, in an area not touched by gasoline. The force knocks my hood back and I can feel my eyebrows singeing.
I yank my hood back up, hike my bag higher on my shoulder, and take off running in the opposite direction of my car. It’ll mean going around the entire city block, but if anyone is watching me, I’ll throw them off my trail.
I’m not chancing anyone following me back to Landry.
No fucking way.
Chapter Seven
Sparrow
After breakfast, Sully takes Della to the office in our apartment to work on her speechreading. The kid threw quite a tantrum, but Landry held firm, stating it was necessary to keep her life as normal as possible, “even in captivity.”
She’s not exactly a prisoner.
Sure, she’s not allowed to leave us, but it’s for her own good. If she goes out there, her dad will find her. It’s only a matter of time. At least here, the both of them are safe, fed, and sheltered.
Landry cleans the kitchen and I watch her. I’m not sure why she’s cleaning, since she hates us and all, but I think she just needs to do something to keep from losing her mind. When I can’t take it anymore, I crowd her from behind, pinning her body against the sink with mine.