Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
A low hiss stops me in the living room. One of her cats stares at me with glinting demon eyes in the dark. The other one winks at me from his position on the sofa.
I place a hand in front of my mouth, but the cat growls then jumps behind the TV.
Crazy fucking cat.
My steps are silent and fast as I move in the shadows. Yes, she can come out and see me, and maybe that’s what I want. If she sees me, she’ll think twice about wearing lingerie and getting drunk with a perverted fucker.
I stop at the threshold of her bedroom. Her eyes are shut as she sleeps, still in her black dress. Waves of her hair cocoon her face like some sort of a mask, different from the one she wears every day.
My feet move of their own volition until I’m standing over her bed. Her face is flushed, probably from the wine, or the fright. Maybe both.
The sheet falls to her middle, revealing the curve of her pale breast. My fingers latch on the covers and I tuck her in like she’s a child.
She can be fragile and small, my little Petal.
Lucio always told me to take contract jobs for his friends, but none of their money interested me. With the exception of Lucio, I never kill for people.
Until now.
My little Petal made me kill for her without a word or a penny. Well, she didn’t exactly make me, but it counts.
I killed for her.
And the best part? I would do it all over again.
My fingers touch her forehead, tucking a stray strand behind her ear as I whisper, “Keep away from that brand of assholes if you don’t want them all dead.”
6
Georgina
My alarm clock blares and I wake up with a sigh.
The duvet is tucked in around me and I realize I just had the best night's sleep in years. My cats are excited as ever and I feed them before remembering the previous night, groaning. Facing Andrew Martin at work today will not be ideal, but at least I have my friends, who will stay on my side no matter what.
I already know today is going to be hellish, but nothing prepares me for the shitshow I walk into as soon as I arrive at work.
There are cop cars everywhere, officers glancing at me as I pass them by. I furrow my brows with worry. We do get policemen coming by sometimes, usually to deal with an especially difficult, violent patient. But this seems like more than that – like something's seriously wrong.
I walk to the ER where I find a shaken-up Katya answering questions. She looks pale as a ghost, and when her eyes meet mine, she breathes, "Oh, thank God. There she is now!"
Instantly, the heads of three policemen who are surrounding my friend turn toward me. My stomach tightens into a thousand knots and I nod at the officers as I near my friend, squeezing her arm in an attempt to comfort her. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"
"Oh, Georgie," Katya lets out a choked sob. "I... I don't even know how to tell you this."
"Just let us do our job," an older policeman suggests, giving her a firm look and making her nod sheepishly before he turns to face me. "Miss Georgina Hill, is it?"
"Yes," I reply warily. "What's going on?"
"It's Dr. Martin," Katya blurts out, shaking her head in disbelief. "Georgie, he's, he's..."
"Dr. Martin was the target of a robbery last night," the policeman says matter-of-factly. "He sustained knife injuries in the parking lot of a restaurant downtown, Antonio's. Unfortunately, the injuries were fatal."
My mouth gapes open in shock and I glance between my friend and the policemen, trying to make sense of the cop's words. "You mean he's... gone?"
Nobody answers my question, and the words float in the air between us. Finally, the older cop speaks up again. "My name is Detective Ramirez, Miss Hill. We'd like to talk to you about what happened last night between you and the late doctor. As I'm sure you know, his wife is very much upset."
My expression falls instantly, and Katya and I repeat the word in unison. "Wife?"
"Yes." The detective glances between the two of us with surprise. "You were not aware he was married?"
"I know he'd separated a while ago," Katya mutters, shooting me an apologetic look.
"No, he never separated." Detective Ramirez checks his notebook and shakes his head. "Been married twenty-six years. No kids. His wife, Debbie, was anxious when he didn't return home, and she's extremely upset about... the circumstances of last night."
"I had no idea he was married," I go on, not letting the words get to me. "I'm sure my friends at the hospital did not, either. As for the circumstances, the guy groped me in an empty parking lot, without my consent. That about answer your question, detective?"