Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
The moment the woman hung up, I received another call. The one I’d been dreading.
“Ms. Jones, we’d like to arrange a time for your case worker to come and see you. There are a lot of matters that need clarification, including your sudden arrival back into the United States, your rehabilitation, and memory gain.”
Corrine had managed to soothe my case worker after I ran so swiftly from England, but I still had to face the music and answer numerous questions in a debrief. Coming back from the dead wasn’t an easy thing. And remembering an entire lifetime from the one I’d lived for the past eight years caused a mass of paperwork.
The familiar flutter of fear that evil would find me once again rose. I couldn’t quite silence the terror that my memories would fade or that I’d wake up and forget everything all over again. But every day, I laughed more. Smiled more. I even had my own project in the works that I couldn’t wait to share with Arthur. I intended to do something special with the Dagger Rose land I’d inherited. Something that would align my two worlds: Sarah Jones and Cleo Price.
My life had come full circle and once the knots had been tied on the remaining loose ends, I would be free.
“Tell Detective Davidson he’s more than welcome to come and see me whenever he likes. I’ll look forward to telling him my tale.”
With all the illegal activities and murders expunged, of course.
I was now the partner of a public figure.
A biker princess and a soon-to-be politician’s first lady.
My, how life had changed.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kill
Mathematics was my forte.
Trading was my calling. Ruling my vocation.
If I couldn’t do any of those things … what did that leave me?
Who would I become? —Kill, last night
Wallstreet.
I was so used to seeing him behind bars. So used to the faded cotton of prison uniforms and huddling together to speak in code whenever we had news.
All of that was in the past.
Today was the last day of my current world. Tomorrow, Cleo and I would live an entirely different existence. And I was nervous as well as excited.
My benefactor and mentor stepped out of Florida State. He wore the same pinstripe suit he’d worn the morning the police arrested him at his offices downtown. We were so similar in that respect: He wore his cut and ran with bikers most days, but other days he merged with businessmen and bankers, dressing like them, laughing like them.
Pity he hadn’t vetted the women he fucked as well as he did the men he did business with. He’d been sent to jail all thanks to a disgruntled Club bunny.
I waved, catching his eye.
His white teeth flashed in the sun and he followed the same path to freedom I did four years ago. I pushed off from the Mercedes that Grasshopper had paid a fucking fortune for the night we burned Dagger Rose and clasped hands with my friend.
He pulled me into a hug.
“Fuck, Kill. It’s good to see you.”
My heart raced. I hugged him back.
Breaking away, he raised his head to the sun and inhaled deeply. He looked ten years younger. With an open-necked cream shirt and slicked back white hair, he looked every bit the retired honcho of a Fortune 500 company.
Reaching into the Mercedes’ backseat, I pulled out a new jacket. The freshly embroidered cut had no ranking on the pocket—not yet. After all, it was up to him to decide his placement now.
We hadn’t discussed in great detail what would happen tonight, but we didn’t need to.
Those plans had been set in stone the very first day he tutored me.
My position would be very different soon.
And I’m fine with that.
It was how I wanted it—what I’d requested.
Wallstreet grinned, taking the jacket and sniffing the leather. “Shit, that brings back memories.”
“Got a lot to catch up on, and plenty of time to make new ones.”
Wallstreet clasped my shoulder. The slight twinge from my previously broken arm made me wince. The shorn piece of hair from my surgery still irritated but the headaches and vision issues were gone. I was on the mend. Thank God.
However, there was one part of me still broken.
I hadn’t placed a trade since the battle with Dagger Rose. I hadn’t opened my accounts or turned on my computer screens. The codes and algorithms I’d always lived with were still absent and it was fucking lonely inside my head.
“Shall we?” Wallstreet asked, shrugging into the suit and cocking his head at the Merc.
I smiled. The welcome home party we’d planned would kick off the moment I drove him to the Clubhouse. Grasshopper had readied all the supplies required. He still had some getting used to what would happen, but I believed in him.
He was a good guy. A perfect Pure.