Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I told myself he’d be last on my list. Because I couldn’t have myself doubting five years of meticulous planning.
One by one, I’ve watched the dominos fall.
Ethan’s affairs, exposed. Quinn’s empire crumbling before his eyes. Duke’s bitter realization that his longtime girlfriend had been fucking his brother all along. And Trip, well he was easy. I didn’t even have to set fire to his perfectly constructed world. He lit the match himself with his numerous addictions.
But Alexander is another story.
He’s the one I’ve held out for. The one I haven’t been able to find. It’s like he vanished into thin air after his father’s scandal.
I was beginning to lose all hope.
Until Kylie’s friend mentioned that crescent shaped scar on the john.
It can’t be him.
I still don’t believe it, and yet here I am, prowling the same bar for the fifth night in a row. I am powerless against it. The fixation has grown inside of me now, infecting my mind like poison.
I need to find him.
And I need to decide once and for all if this warpath I’m on is really that. If I’m willing to do battle and bloody myself up in pursuit of my revenge.
Until then, I will settle for the pawns. Like the one I’m now standing two feet away from. He only has to turn his head, and then he will notice me. Of that, I am confident.
Will he remember me?
I sit, and I wait. I flag down the bartender.
By the time he makes it down our way, dopey will be asking if he can buy me a drink.
Of course, I’ll tell him. And then when he’s not looking, I’ll slip him the benzos. Five minutes tops, and I’ll be suggesting we find somewhere quieter. Like my room upstairs.
That’s how it usually goes.
Only tonight, it doesn’t.
Because he doesn’t notice me. Even when the bartender comes down to ask me if I want a drink. And when I turn to see what could be so blindingly fascinating, I find exactly what I don’t want to see.
She’s across the bar, in shadow. Tonight, she wears a short black wig and the only weapon she needs. A wicked smile and a crook of her finger, and she’s got him. Hook, line, and sinker.
I wouldn’t exactly call her my nemesis. Or even my rival.
I don’t get possessive of my territory. Except when someone’s bringing heat down on it. Which is exactly what this girl has been doing since she showed up two months ago.
She goes by the street name Storm, but names are like purses to her. She has a different one for every day of the week, to go with her disguises.
Bitch is crazy. Even crazier than me.
And she’s making my game look like child’s play compared to what she does to her toys. There is something about her that scares even me a little. I’ve watched her work before, and there is no flashy sales pitch on her part. She keeps it simple, and it works. It works so well she never even gets close to her targets before she lures them in.
Standing in the shadows, tossing coy glances over her shoulder. That really is all there is to it. There’s a mystery about her that even I can’t deny. And I won’t say that I don’t admire her skill set because she’s got a natural talent for what she does.
But respect is a two-way street.
Like I said before, I’m not a fan of people. So usually, I mind my business.
But tonight, she is crossing the line. And she knows it too when she meets my gaze and smiles.
Dopey gets up from his stool and walks directly to his doom like a puppy chasing after a bone. I follow five steps behind him.
Storm has been using the same hotels that I do on a regular basis, so I’m not surprised when she takes him into one of the rooms upstairs.
I grab my knife and a credit card, prepared to deal with the lock, but there’s no need. She left it cracked open for me.
By the time I open the door, she’s already got dopey unconscious on the ground. She meets my gaze for a second and quickly dismisses me before she goes to work on cutting off his clothes.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think she’s been studying my playbook.
“That one was mine,” I tell her.
“Really?” She doesn’t move her focus from her current task. “Because I’m pretty sure he came back here of his own free will. Don’t think he even noticed you tonight. No offence, dollface.”
Well, she does have a point there. But still, I’m not about to let it go.
“I’ve already visited with him once before.”
“Then I guess you didn’t do a good enough job,” she says. “I’ll make sure to do it right this time.”