Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I can hear in his voice he’s getting weaker, closer to death. My calm facade quickly fades as I grip his shirt and start shaking him. Tears break free and trickle down my cheeks as I panic. I need answers. He can’t die without telling me the names of those in charge.
“Don’t you fucking die without telling me the truth. I want names,” I scream at him.
He only smiles in response.
When I feel hands on me, I shudder before realizing it’s Dante who’s got a firm grip of my shoulders.
“Calm down,” he whispers in my ear, coaxing me from the doctor who is now slumped in the wingback chair. “What the fuck is wrong?”
“He doesn’t want to talk,” I reply as I turn away from the dying man.
Dr. Stirling doesn’t have long to live, and a feeling of frustration races through me. If he doesn’t want to talk, I’ll have to find the answers myself, and I turn around to face his desk.
When the silencer goes off, I snap my gaze to Dante who has ended the bastard’s life. He turns to me and his eyes pierce right through my armor. Whenever I’m on a job, I shut off all my emotions. Even though we kill monsters, they are human. Empathy is the last thing I need on my mind, so I have to lock it away. If I don’t keep my emotions in check, there’s a danger I’ll not be able to finish the job.
“Are you okay?” Dante asks as he comes over to the desk, and crouching down, he looks directly at me.
Dante’s not overly affectionate, which is something I appreciate. I don’t want the soft caresses and gentle embraces most girls crave, because they take me all the way back to my youth. My father would offer me loving touches as he stole what he had no right to take.
“I will be.” I don’t look at Dante when I speak. If I do, I’ll break down and we can’t afford to waste time. We need to search for any useful information and leave.
I manage to log on to the doctor’s computer and find folders on all the patients he’s been seeing.
“Download copies and let’s get out of here,” Dante orders.
Once I’ve copied every file, folder, and email onto a flash drive, I shove it into my pocket. Then sheathing the knife I used, I place it back into my boot as we make our way out of the office.
The name on the doctor’s appointment calendar won’t lead the cops to me, but it will send them on a wild goose chase for a while. They’ll discover a few other sick fuckers who are now rotting corpses. They can deal with their burials. It’s far too much effort for us, and when all is said and done, we’re doing their work for them.
We go in, do the job, and get out. There isn’t any evidence left behind. Ever.
It’s how we’re able to continue doing this without being caught. We’re meticulous.
Dante doesn’t speak on the way back to the car, and I’m thankful for it. But once he slides into the driver’s seat, he doesn’t start the engine immediately, and I know he’s going to question me.
3
DANTE
I know this shit is difficult. Over the past few months, I’ve had second thoughts. I worry about getting so far into this we can’t turn back, not for my sake, but for the girls. It’s never easy facing monsters from our pasts. It never will be.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask again.
I’m no therapist but this job has taken a toll on Harper, and I wonder if it’s because she’s actually been going to therapy in order to set the doctor up.
When you start talking about your past, it can dredge up all those memories you’ve tried to bury. I would know. Maybe having to recount the past to the doctor has brought all her fears to the forefront of her mind.
I’ve mentioned my concerns to both girls before and suggested they talk to someone, but it’s always been shot down.
“Don’t worry about me so much,” Harper responds, her gaze landing on mine as she grins. But I know her far better than she knows herself, and her smile is not genuine.
“It’s part of who I am, Harper,” I tell her. “There won’t ever be a time I don’t worry about you or Rayne.” It’s the truth.
“Let’s go home and look through these,” she says as she waves the flash drive at me. “I don’t want to risk being here any longer than necessary.”
Even though we have time before the cops arrive and I’ve cut the feeds to the CCTV cameras, there’s always a possibility of being spotted. We’ve avoided being identified or caught so far, but we can’t get too confident.