Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
With both hands bracing him on the island, his mind whirled. Where would he even start? Walk into the police station strapped with firepower? Or maybe show up at Gustavo Bianchi’s front door. The logical choice would be to trade fire for fire and go after Bianchi’s relatives until he made a trade for Cleo. But Priest refused to be that kind of bastard.
When his doorbell rang, he thought he’d just entered the Twilight Zone. Nobody showed up at his door. He immediately pulled out his gun and sidestepped to the front door where he could check the images in his security camera panel. When he saw Killian standing there, he was even more confused.
He opened the door. “What the fuck are you doing here? Who gave you my address?”
“What a nice welcome.” Killian pushed past him into the kitchen. “Temper tantrum?” he asked, pointing to the mess on the island.
“Why are you here?”
Killian only turned and raised a brow.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Yeah, you ditched your shadow. Lucky for you, Gabriel finished the job before reporting you MIA.”
“How?”
“He cut the brake lines. Followed in a stolen vehicle, since he didn’t have one thanks to you, and finished the job by breaking his neck at the crash site.”
Priest nodded approvingly. His protégé had done well.
“I should snap his neck for ratting me out.”
Killian opened the fridge, popping a grape into his mouth. “Boss isn’t too happy. He likes orders followed to the letter. You should know that by now.”
“Yeah, I know the drill.”
He turned to face Priest. “Why’d you leave Gabriel? No one’s that obnoxious, are they?”
If he told the truth, he’d only bury himself deeper.
He was just grateful Boss hadn’t sent Killian to deal with the Cleo issue. That would have been much worse.
Cleo was his secret. But he’d lost her, hadn’t he? He could use help but couldn’t risk exposing the fact he’d failed and tried to cover it up.
“I had something personal to handle.”
“Don’t think that will cut it with Boss. I was hoping for something life and death. You’re in deep.” Killian sat on an island stool. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.”
“Does he want you to kill me? You can fucking try.”
Killian scoffed, sifting through the mess on the counter. “Relax, big boy. Just doing damage control. The kind where you keep breathing.”
“Good to know. I’ll return the favor—it’s not safe for you to be here. Bianchi has a tail on me, maybe knows where I live.”
“Boss has a hard-on to end that empire. Who’s next on the list?”
He shrugged. “I’ve only been assigned two so far.”
“You should really try to be more careful with who you let follow you home.” Killian ran a hand through his hair. “You have anything to eat?”
Priest pounded his fist on the counter. “Listen, I know exactly how to handle my shit. Can we end this now or is there a point to this little social call?”
“You know Boss. He keeps a tally of everything. I’m supposed to bring you in.”
“Really.”
****
The bag was pulled off her head, but her eyes didn’t need time to adjust. There was only scant light coming from under the door that just closed. She was in an empty room on a metal chair. Her hands weren’t tied, so she stood up and looked around. Everything had happened so fast.
She’d been lying in bed when she thought she heard Priest come home. When he opened her door, her heart started to race. She was excited he was back, like she always was. Then the black bag had been forced over her head and she’d been dragged out kicking and screaming.
Cleo knew it wasn’t Priest because the man who’d taken her started talking to another when they got outside to a vehicle. When she’d screamed for Priest, the men chuckled.
These must be other men from the police station. They’d be extra mad one of their own had been killed. Maybe they’d take it out on her. What about Priest? What if they’d gotten to him first? Was he dead, alive, being tortured? She knew so little about him but still cared enough to be worried sick. Three weeks with him felt like three years.
She paced the room. There was nothing inside here besides the chair—just four walls, a concrete floor, and one door. No windows.
Her life had been hard but simple, and now everything had changed. She’d been thrust into the middle of something that had nothing to do with her. Cleo had no idea what would come next or if she’d even be alive come morning. All the uncertainty was toying with her head, making her uneasy and close to panicking. The only thing that had been constant in her life lately was Priest. He was a stickler for routine, and the familiarity was soothing.