Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
In any case, while the gods not showing up today might have bought him more time, it also meant he’d lost the opportunity to talk his way out of this wild-goose chase.
Asking him to solve the immortal exodus was like asking someone to bring back humans after a nuclear explosion. Some things just couldn’t be undone. Dead was dead. Gone was gone.
Are we done here now? We have killing to do, tailor. And do not lie and tell me you’re not as anxious as I am; I heard your thoughts when you unleashed me.
“I was angry and in shock. Who wouldn’t be?”
We both know what comes next, tailor. Why fight it?
Damien’s phone rang. It was Boris, the Russian mobster he’d hired to look after Sky’s nephew and sister.
“Greystone here.”
“Hello, friend. I call with news,” Boris said with his thick accent. “I catch man trying to burn down woman’s house.”
“What?”
“Dah. He come with firebomb—very ugly style. Like KGB used. Car battery, gasoline can—”
“What did you do with the man?”
“I keel him good.”
“No, not good. I needed to question him.” For example, it would be nice to know who hired him. Newbery or someone else?
“When man points gun at Boris, Boris points gun back and shoots. The end. Now I let you know woman and kid are on plane.”
“What are you talking about?” Damien asked.
“I hear woman say to kid she get text from sister, telling her to come to house-safe.”
“You mean a safe house?”
“Dah. To place on Sunset Ridge. In LA.”
Sonofa… That was his house! Was Sky behind this? Maybe she’d enlisted Pet’s help. But why would they do this? Having Sky’s family stay with him was not an option. Especially now that his beast was back.
“A fucking text message from Sky?” he muttered in disbelief. “I guess that means the body hasn’t been found yet.”
“Repeat, please.”
“Never mind.” Better not to share too much with Boris. His world was all about leverage and blackmail.
“So I see you Monday in Miami, yes?” Boris asked.
“Miami?”
“For fitting?”
“Right. The wedding outfits. Yes, I’ll be there.” Miami was the last place Damien wanted to go, but a deal was a deal. Especially when it came to the Russian mafia.
“Good, bring date for big dinner sister’s place. I text you address.”
Date? “I’m only coming to measure the wedding party and…” Boris had already hung up.
Damien exhaled slowly. He was losing his mind. The gods wanted him to find the cure to immortal death. His dark beast wanted him to go on a killing spree. MF wanted to turn his family’s legacy into a dress empire. Boris wanted to socialize. Sky wanted him to host her sister and nephew. Pet and two demons wanted to live with him indefinitely. All he fucking wanted was to be left alone!
The drive home with the top down gave Damien another much-needed cooling-down period along with some clarity. The key to staying sane was prioritizing the issues. First there was the immortal exodus issue. Second, punishing and stopping anyone involved with the traffickers. Third, dealing with his beast. And finally, getting these intruders out of his life. This last one would be dealt with tonight.
“Hello?” Damien entered his home, noting the scent of fresh warm bread in the air. Who the hell was baking?
He stepped into his once-pristine kitchen now covered in flour, batter, and other goop running down the walls, which Pet was licking while Gorgonzolina watched.
“What are you doing?” he asked Pet.
“Baking you I’m-sorry biscuits.”
He had no idea what was in them, but eating anything prepared by a sex fairy was never a wise idea. Also, he did not need an apology. He simply wanted her gone.
“You clean up this mess immediately,” he ordered. “I want my kitchen just like you found it.”
“You mean sad, lonely, and no sense of sexiness?” she asked innocently.
“It is called the minimalist look.”
“You win. It is minimally sexy. Though, you do have a nice variety of festive potholders.”
Grrr… He hated people touching his stuff. “I want this mess cleaned up immediately. Oh, yes, and I need to ask you and Gorgo something.”
“Gorgo?”
He jerked his head at the brown Chihuahua still avoiding eye contact.
“She says she doesn’t like nicknames,” Pet corrected. “You must use her entire proper demon name.”
“I will call you what I like, when I like, and you will answer my question,” he said.
“See. I told you. He’s very mean,” Pet said.
“Exactly. Now I need you both to tell me where you were captured and where they took you before you got to the Browns’ house.” Damien wanted to find out who was involved in this despicable trafficking operation—who supplied the Browns with the women and creatures? Where were they taken from? Who were the clients? Most of all, which ones were involved in torturing the creatures in that bunker?
Finally, Sky had said that Vincente Newbery was an investor in the Browns’ company. Damien wanted to find out what that meant and how deeply the Newberys were involved. Did this go all the way up to the governor? Their rich friends? Because someone was still trying to shut Sky up, unaware she was already dead. Strangely, that third article, implicating the Newberys, still had not gone live. He needed to ask Sky about that.