Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Cairo flicked from me to her. “Rain, let me make this clear: I did not kill this woman. I don’t know her. Now why don’t you make clear why you think otherwise?”
The arrow shook. “I said that’s not going to work,” I hissed. “Nice shoes, Sharpe.”
“My shoes? What the fuck are you on about?”
“Those are the same black shoes the Letter Man wore— I said don’t move.”
Cairo kept coming, advancing on me, predator’s glint in his green pools. He reached for me, and I fired.
“Fuck!” Diving out of the way, the arrow caught his shoulder, ripping a tear through fabric and skin. Cairo flashed and snatched my bow before I readied another to finish the job.
“I don’t know who the fuck the Letter Man is, Rain!” He flung the bow behind him. “Tell me what’s going on?”
“You tell me,” I said, backing away. “What are you doing here?”
“You’ve been gone for hours. You didn’t pick up your phone.” Cairo pushed to his feet, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “I’ve long since learned when I can’t find my pet, it means she ran back home.”
Watching me backing away, Cairo probed Bella’s neck. He cursed under his breath. “What happened here?” His gaze continued to the kitchen, and the setup rigged to kill Bella the moment I entered. “Explain. Now.”
Chest heaving, I replied, “I was told to come here by the man who’s been tormenting and fucking with my life for weeks, after he took over for his buddy Cavendish. He said we’d meet tonight... then you walked through the door.”
“I am not the man you came here to meet. Or the man, I assume, who killed this woman.”
I wasn’t giving in that easily. Not while Bella’s blood stained the floor. “Then why are you wearing those shoes, Sharpe? Why are you dressed like that?”
“I had an invitation to dinner. The boss has a dress code,” he said simply. “You done interrogating me? Ready to share what the fuck is going on?”
“Promise me.”
“What?”
“Promise me!” I cried. “Promise you had nothing to do with this. Swear you’re not him.”
“That’s it? A promise is going to convince you after this!” He motioned to his bleeding wound. “Should’ve said that from the fucking beginning, woman. I promise.” The furious oath was a dagger through me. “I did not do this, Rain. I don’t play these games. Not with you.
“With you I don’t have to.”
I didn’t want them to. I fought through my rage and grief to hold it back, but deep down, his words were penetrating.
“I came here to find you. No other reason,” he said, “and as a result I’m getting my blood all over a crime scene. Tell me why.”
“Bella,” I rasped. “Bella, she—”
I broke down, collapsing sobbing on the floor. I think I went on trying to tell Cairo what happened, but he couldn’t understand me, and I couldn’t understand at all.
Why had the Letter Man done this? It wasn’t enough he held her life over my head. It wasn’t enough to torture me and demand more blood on my hands. In the end, he punished my deceit by making me what I refused to be.
It was me who loosed the arrow that ended her life. He forced me to kill her.
He made me watch her die.
Hands circled me, lifting me up.
“No.” I was carried out. “We can’t leave her. Cairo, we can’t—”
“Shh,” he crooned. “We’re not going far. You need to tell me the whole story, and you can’t do that next to her.”
Cairo dropped the tailgate and set me on the truck bed. He walked away, making me cry out, but soon returned carrying a first aid kit. He dropped it on my lap.
“Fix your mess while you talk.”
Cairo climbed in the back and tugged me sniffling after him. Leaning against the truck, he winced shoving the torn fabric down.
The gash wasn’t too deep but still nasty. He waited, expecting me to care for him. It took some time for my shaky hands to pry off the lid, and take out the bandages and antiseptic.
A grimace was all he afforded me as the liquid bathed his wound.
“Talk,” he ordered.
It came slow, but it came. “Months ago, I started receiving these letters on my doorstep. Creepy, terrifying rants and riddles warning me that if I didn’t find and kill them before Ruckus Royale, they’d choose someone to sacrifice that night.”
I dabbed around the cut, cleaning the blood. Somehow, the task was calming me—giving me something to focus on.
“You know how that story ended,” I whispered. “I discovered the man was Cavendish and his victim, Jennifer Wilson. He said either he died that night or Jennifer did. I chose Jennifer and a text with her location came less than twenty minutes after he died.
“I rescued her and got to believe for all of one night that it was over. That was until I came home and found another black letter on my porch.”