Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“I will be back in half an hour,” Anthony said, nodding toward Matej and Elio in the house behind him.
With that, he jingled Elio’s keys in one hand while pressing his hand to my lower back in the other.
Really, it was asking far too much of his coordination.
His foot caught the last step weird, sending him pitching forward. And I was pretty sure if I hadn’t grabbed the railing hard with one hand, and snagged the back of his belt with the other, that he would have done more than just stumble and catch himself. And that was an unforgiving concrete slab right below him.
He turned to me, sheepish, neck going red.
“Hey, it’s been like a full day since you’ve almost seriously injured yourself. That’s got to be a record, right?” I teased, making him chuckle before we made our way to the car.
There was a strange longing within me as we stood at the port, waiting for the next ferry, since we’d been five minutes too late for the one that had left, and had another half an hour for the next one.
“You’re quiet,” Anthony said, closing his arms around me when a shiver racked my system as the wind started to kick off, made colder by blowing over the water.
“I don’t know what to say,” I told him. Because it felt impossible to express the truth. That I was longing for him even though I was still with him. That I was missing him when I was still in his arms.
Because that? Yeah, that was insane.
It was a couple of hours, for God’s sake.
“Are you alright? I know today was a lot.”
“Yeah. I mean, yeah, it was a lot. But also, yeah, I’m okay. Not great. I feel really bad for Matej. And a little queasy still about his story. But I’m alright. Just wish I could stay.”
There.
That was close to the truth without revealing too much.
“I wish you could stay too,” he said, pressing a kiss to my head. “Or that I could go with you. I just… someone has to help that guy.”
“I agree,” I said, adding a silent damnit. “You’ll let me know when you’re heading to the ferry? Or however you’re coming back?”
“Yeah. Then I’ll let you know when I’m in the city. I’m gonna need you to unlock the door for me,” he said, since we only had the one key.
“I’ll have some food delivered too. You’re gonna be starving by then.”
He nodded at that, but his face was nuzzling into my neck.
“Then we’re gonna fall into that bed and get lost in each other for a few hours,” he promised, making my belly flip-flop.
“Don’t make promises that your tired ass won’t be able to make good on.”
“Babe, I would need to be on death’s door not to fuck you,” he said, checking his watch, and letting out a grumble. “You need to go in if you want to catch the ferry,” he said.
I didn’t want to.
But Fury deserved a steady schedule.
And it was only a few hours.
Except, of course, as it would turn out… that wasn’t exactly how it played out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Anthony
I fucking missed her the second she started to walk away from me.
Which, I was pretty sure, meant it was safe to say it was more than just interest in her. That it might be a fuckuva lot more. The kind of more that would mean my mother would be expecting to see Saylor seated at her table.
I tried to tamp down those thoughts, though, as I stood there watching the ferry take off before making my way back to Matej’s house.
I found him plugging his way through some of the meat sticks we’d picked up for him, chasing it down with a water bottle filled with two electrolyte packets, desperate to regain his strength. To help us, I think. But to a much bigger degree, to be able to take on his brother and the assholes who’d betrayed him and killed people he’d loved.
Elio was already mostly done with the kitchen, black bags sitting up on the island filled with bloody paper towels, the whole room reeking of bleach.
I propped the back door open to let out some of the fumes before getting myself changed, strapping on the booties and gloves, and getting to work on the living room. It took actual work not to feel sick as I found myself literally picking up pieces of skull and brain matter.
I mean, sure, I’d done some cleaning up of crime scenes before. But this sort of heavy lifting usually went to Silvano. First, because he knew every trick in the trade, and not even an intense forensics analysis had ever produced evidence to suspect, let alone convict, any of us. But, to a lesser degree, it was because the man had a steel stomach. Picking up severed body parts, eyes, teeth, brain matter, that shit just didn’t affect him like it did the rest of us.