Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
It would serve its purpose, and I would get decent sleep at night. It was more than I could have hoped for. After all, I could still be in the never-quiet, never-darkened cells of the SFPD.
Black’s eyes come away from his newspaper in meaningful sluggishness. His brows rise as he asks, “Just how many people know you’re alive, Twitch?”
I keep my gaze on him, not needing to think about the answer. “One of my boys and an old associate. Now, Officer Quaid, the chief, and you.”
He thinks about this then his lips stretch into a smile. With a slight shake of his head, he chuckles aloud, and it pisses me off. I’m not the butt of anybody’s joke.
“What’s funny?” I grind out.
His chuckle turns into an outright laugh. “I would not like to be you when your lady finds out you’ve been alive all this time.” He mock winces. “No, sir-ee. She’s going to make your life a living hell.”
Shit.
My body turns cold at the thought. I try to justify myself to a man who has no fucking idea what it took for me to leave Lexi behind. “She’ll understand once she knows the reason I left. I didn’t have a fucking choice. I had to leave.”
“You’re telling me?” He snorts a laugh. “Have you ever dealt with a woman scorned, Falco? Do you know anything about women at all?” He watches me frown then softens his tone. “There’s no fixing this. She’s not going to forgive you. You’ll be lucky if she lets you see your son at all.”
“I’m his father,” is my lame argument.
Black murmurs, “And according to his birth certificate, you’re deceased. Even with your new identity, the one we fashion for you, you won’t have any rights. Not in a court of law.”
My stomach turns at the thought of being kept from AJ.
It’s already been so long.
I need my son.
I’m in bad shape. I’m dying without him, without her.
Shaking off the unbearable thought, I repeat myself, “I need to make a call.”
Motioning with his head to the phone on the kitchen counter, he says, “Secure line. Pick it up, wait for the three clicks, and then dial.” He takes a moment to stress, “Do not use your cell phone. Not even if it’s a burner. Even burners can get picked up.”
As I stand and move toward the counter, Black utters conversationally, “Hope you’re not too attached to that.”
I hate when he speaks in riddles. “Attached to what?”
“The tattoo.” He taps his cheek, denoting my infamous 13. “Because it’s got to go. It’s an indicator. We can’t afford for someone to see it and start spreading rumors that you live.”
That means he plans on taking me on the other stings. That was good. I could deal with that.
“No.” I lie, although I want to get violent. “I’m not attached.”
I try not to think about it, although he’s suggesting that I remove my past, the day I met Lexi. That day is everything, and fuck yeah, I am attached as hell to the memory of it.
“Good,” Black mutters, nodding. “Because your first session of laser is this afternoon. The guy says you’ll need four to five sessions, four weeks apart.”
Well, fuck.
No way out of it, then.
I’ll do it like I’ve done everything else in my life.
I’ll take it like a man.
Picking up the phone, I put it to my ear, wait for the three clicks to sound, and then dial. It rings once, twice, three times then he answers.
“Fuck me. It’s 6:00 a.m. Someone better be dying, asshole,” Viktor Nikulin groans into the phone, and I fight a grin.
I get to business. “Viktor Nikulin?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, and I hear him shuffle, likely to sit up. “Who’s this?”
I speak quietly, but firmly. “I live in the shadows of the underground and see a lot of things, deal with a lot of people, know a lot of firms.” I pause momentarily, feeling Black’s eyes on me. “Your brother is a problem for me.”
Viktor Nikulin responds, a mixture of anger and disgust lining his voice. “I don’t have a fucking brother.”
“Yes, you do. We both know you do. And it’s fine to disown him, murderous psycho that he is, but Maxim Nikulin is a problem for me. I need to know where to find him.”
He pauses a moment. “You gonna kill him when you find him?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “But he’ll probably die in prison.”
He sighs. “Listen, I don’t like my brother, but even if I knew where we was, I wouldn’t tell you. Shit. I don’t know you, man. For all I know, you could be a cop.”
I chuckle softly. “I’m definitely not a cop.” Just working for one.
He sounds puzzled. “Who are you?”
“I can’t tell you that.” I try to get the information I can. “And I know you don’t speak to your brother, but he’s still your family, and I get that you want to protect him. Wouldn’t he be safer in prison? Seems Max has gone out of his way to make a lot of enemies.”