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)
He licks his paw and gives me a cursory glance before he goes back to cleaning himself.
“He missed you,” Rory says.
“I missed him too,” I whisper, fully aware that neither of us is talking about the goddamned cat.
I want him to grab me and boss me around. I want him to say mean things and fight with me so we can really make up. I want him to hate fuck me and punish me, so I can punish him too.
For believing the bullshit I put him through.
But he does none of those things.
“There’s something on the table for you,” he tells me.
Then he disappears down the hall and leaves me to it.
It’s a death certificate.
For Royce motherfucking Carrington.
My fingers stab into the paperwork as I yank it closer, ensuring that my eyes are not deceiving me. But no, they are not.
He is dead, and he didn’t even suffer.
Drowning.
He fucking drowned in a watery tomb in the Charles River.
What the actual hell?
It doesn’t make sense.
I read it, over and over again.
And then it hits me.
Water.
It if walks like a SEAL, and talks like a SEAL, then it’s probably a goddamn SEAL.
This has Booker written all over it.
He did this.
This is why he let me go. Because he knew he couldn’t get Alexander through the proper channels without him likely harming me or anybody else first.
So he resorted to his own form of vigilante justice.
And goddamnit, I am not even angry about it.
I lean back in my chair and try to process the feelings that I do have.
In the movies, it’s always simple. The calm after the storm is always peaceful. Characters trotting off into the sunset and regaining control over their lives.
But my storm isn’t over yet.
Quinn and Duke are still out there, along with the legion of men they probably have on my trail. There will be no peace in my life until they are gone too.
Rory’s eyes are on me when I close the file, and I don’t know how long he’s been there, watching me.
I am tired.
I am worn and battered and a little bruised. But with him by my side, I can go the distance. I can finish this fight.
He crosses his arms and leans into the wall beside him.
“We do this together,” he says.
He knows me well.
He knows that I can’t give it up and I won’t let him do it for me.
“Yes,” I answer.
“They have a million-dollar bounty on your head.”
He doesn’t need to tell me what that means. A million dollars is a lot of money to some people, even though it’s nothing to them.
That sort of money will draw an army. The low-level street thugs and elite hitmen alike. Money is money.
“They probably have a whole load of security too,” I say.
Rory nods.
He’s done the research already. And when he tosses some invitations onto the kitchen table, he’s got a plan in place too.
The white cardstock is covered in gold scrawl, detailing the Gatsby themed event.
In New York.
“Quinn and Duke will be there tomorrow night,” Rory says. “Their private jet is scheduled to leave after the party, so we only have a small window.”
“Okay.”
“This is how it’s going to be,” he tells me. “You do what the fuck I say, when I say it. Do ye understand me, Scarlett?”
He’s all business right now, and he’s never looked so serious… or so hot. He’s done fucking around. He’s going to tell me how it is, and I’m going to like it or leave it.
I like this alpha male in him, issuing his omega orders.
“What happens if I disobey you?” I tease. “You going to give me a taste of my own medicine?”
His eyes flash and he wants to punish me already, but he doesn’t.
“Just behave for once in your life,” he says. “I don’t need any more shite from you.”
The teasing game is over and his words sting, but I don’t show it.
“Got any friends as batshit crazy as you are?” he asks.
“How many do I need?”
“Just one.”
There’s only one face that comes to mind, but that means I’ll have to track her down. Tonight.
“I have someone. But I’ll need to find her first.”
“Aye,” he says. “Well we better get to it then.”
Thirty-Six
Scarlett
What a fool I was not to tear my heart out on the day when I resolved to avenge myself- Alexandre Dumas
It’s no small wonder that Booker hasn’t been able to locate Storm himself.
If I hadn’t already seen her in the flesh, I’d think she didn’t even exist.
We asked around the usual sources- people who are always good for giving me the information I need- and they didn’t know jack about her.
Which leaves us with good old fashioned detective work. Trawling through bars and hotels and clubs and anywhere else I think she might be.
It’s after midnight, and these heels are hot but uncomfortable, and Rory’s acting like he hasn’t noticed them at all.