Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
She scooted across the leather seat. I followed.
And when we were blanketed in silence, I exhaled out our destination.
“Nixon Abandonato’s house.”
Six thirty-two stiffened next to me.
She knew the name.
Then she would know that it was important that she did exactly as I said.
If I hid her in plain sight, they wouldn’t ask questions.
If they showed up at the club and saw I had her with me and never introduced her, they’d suspect her.
I hoped that none of the girls knew who she was.
I hoped that none of the men would recognize her as the girl who was taken from the De Lange’s a few days ago.
And I hoped that she’d forgive me, if for some reason they did.
Because if they did.
She wouldn’t make it back to the car.
If they did, she was riding to her own funeral.
I turned to see if she was wringing her hands together, or if she was biting her lip, tapping her heels, and I almost smiled when I noticed she was doing all three.
“Deep breaths,” I said in an amused voice. “You’re with me.”
“But you’re Russian.”
“How astute of you to point out the obvious.”
“No.” She gulped and turned her body toward me. I enjoyed the way the fur hugged her body, protecting her, keeping her safe from the elements, keeping her safe from watchful eyes. “I mean, you do realize who he is? Boss to one of the most powerful crime families in the world, his second in command went on a killing spree with you today. Don’t think I didn’t recognize him. The four families are powerful, and they hate De Langes. You aren’t Italian.”
I smirked at that. “Oh, you’d be surprised what I am.”
“You aren’t listening.” Her voice shook. “Again, you’re Russian. You don’t understand… they’ll kill me.”
“They’ll have to get through me first.”
She looked like she was minutes away from turning hysterical, so even though I rarely had to tell people why they should fear me, why they should run in the other direction, I put my hand on her thigh, stopping the incessant tapping of her foot.
Her body tensed beneath my touch.
Her warmth seeped through the leather of my gloves, and my fingers tingled as I held my hand there, wondering for the first time in years, if I would like touching her skin or if I’d have the ever present aversion to it.
It had been getting worse over the years.
The gloves hadn’t been necessary a few months ago.
And I hated that it was one more thing that I did, following in my father’s footsteps, leather gloves, always leather gloves.
“Listen carefully, six thirty-two, we’re almost to the compound Nixon calls a house.” I dug my fingers into her thigh a bit, she let out a whimper of fear, one I put there, not on purpose, but because I wanted more heat, I wanted… just more.
I jerked my hand back as we pulled up to the gate.
“My name is Andrei Petrov. I am the last living heir to the Petrov crime family. I am worth more money than you will ever see in your lifetime, I was taught to kill when you were watching cartoons with a fucking sippy cup. I kill without a second thought, I feel nothing, and when I tell you that I’ll keep you safe, know that I’ll keep you safe. Those men in there won’t know your last name because I won’t give it. If any of them find out who you are, my suggestion is to say one last prayer because even my gun won’t be fast enough against six of the most dangerous men on this planet, seven if you count the old man, eight if you count my mentor. I say this not to scare you but for you to understand that your survival depends on this.”
“R-right. Yes. Okay.” She nodded her head what felt like a dozen times and then whispered. “If I’m not a…” She shook her head. “Who do they think I am?”
The SUV pulled around the front and stopped.
The door opened and I called over my shoulder. “My new girlfriend.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alice
There was no time to hyperventilate as the cold spring air hit me square in the face. It was a chilly Chicago day, not that I’d been outside much in the last year.
Not since every De Lange family member went into deep cover.
My family was too involved to walk the streets.
Meaning I was both target and bait.
Seeing the sun, feeling it on my face, well that wasn’t something I’d been allowed to feel in a while. I was pulled from school, pulled from every extracurricular I was involved in, not that it was a lot, but still, being pulled from dance wasn’t fun.
Being pulled from Eagle Elite was even worse.
They’d shown up in black cars.
Students had watched while I was walked to the car and told I wouldn’t finish my junior year.