Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I spend a few more minutes quietly blubbering before blowing my nose again and composing myself as best I can. There’s so much to do. First, I need to ditch the gun, burn my clothes, and make sure my ass is covered. Someone will discover the body soon enough. I need to be back in New Orleans before that happens. Besides, I have an appointment in the morning with the board of Magnolia Sugar to lay out the benefits of them siding with me on the hostile takeover. I may have killed Lucius sooner than I planned, but I still intend to bring the entire Vinemont empire crashing to the ground. I won’t kill the other two brothers. Lucius was the only one who had to die. But if they cross me, I might change my mind. After all, I’m a killer now. What’s a few more notches on my gun?
God, I’d had this whole speech prepared for him. It wasn’t “my name is Inigo Montoya” great or anything, but it laid out his sins against me. I didn’t have the chance to utter a word of it. It was just over, done, the end. One minute he was breathing, the next I’d taken his twisted life. So easy.
I shouldn’t dwell on it, not when I have more plans. I’ll have a bottle of prosecco and a long bath when I’m safe in my loft, not sitting out here in the parish I used to roam.
Pulling down my mirror, I swipe the wetness from below my eyes and blink hard a few times. “You can do this. You proved it,” I tell myself. “You’re not some weak girl who just lets things happen to her. You’re strong. You make your destiny.”
With a deep breath, I stow the gun in the glove box and start the car.
My new world is just beginning, and it’s so much brighter now that Lucius Vinemont isn’t in it.
5
Lucius
She shot me. She fucking shot me!
I sit up and feel my ruined shirt and the vest beneath. This is worse than being kicked by a horse.
“Jesus.” I cough and half expect to spit blood. The bullet didn’t knock me out, but I sure as hell played dead so she wouldn’t add a slug to my face. But I didn’t need to worry. She stood there for a few seconds, seemingly shocked into silence, and then took off through the woods.
Like I said, she isn’t a stone-cold killer. If she were, she would have made sure I never drew another breath. Instead, she ran off, scared and full of adrenaline, not thinking straight.
I struggle to my feet, the pain in my chest radiating to my ribs and around my back. “Fucking hell.” I lean against the tree.
What did I do to this woman? I yank my shirt open and reach for the straps holding my vest in place. She wasn’t familiar, not that I could see much. But she’s got some major anger issues where I’m concerned. She wanted to kill me herself, not hire it out to a contract killer or watch from afar. No, this was personal for her. But who the fuck is she?
I’ve wronged plenty of women in my life, mainly by making promises I never intend to keep. Once I get them in bed, I’m done. I’m the typical asshole who lives for the chase, and once I’ve gotten a taste of my kill, I move on to the next. But I can’t imagine that any of those women could be this pissed at me. After all, I make them come—usually many times over—before I take my leave.
I finally free myself from the vest and throw it down. A red bruise takes shape over my heart. It’ll be black and blue in a few hours.
Walking gingerly, I return to my house and pour another bourbon. I’m going to have to finish this bottle to make a dent in the pain. Picking up my phone, I dial Sin.
“What the fuck do you want now?” My brother’s classic coldness doesn’t bother me.
“Someone tried to kill me tonight.”
“Who?” He sounds almost bored.
“A woman.”
“A toothy blowjob isn’t a murder attempt, Lucius.”
“Fuck you.” I collapse into my favorite chair even though the movement amplifies my aches.
“One of your former conquests, I presume?”
“I don’t think so.” I pop back a couple of high-flying painkillers and down them with more bourbon. “This one had some major vengeance vibes going. She tapped me right in the heart. Vest was the only thing that saved me. But I can’t place her.”
“She didn’t monologue first?” He sighs. “I usually monologue a little before I kill someone. Give them a little background, mainly to the tune of ‘don’t ever fuck with a Vinemont.’ Seems she wasted a great opportunity.”
“Didn’t have a chance. It happened so fast. I spooked her into shooting me, more or less.”