Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Nice,” Brooks said when he came in to find me wiping off the outsides of the cabinets. “I appreciate some initiative.”
“I don’t like doing nothing,” I admitted. “I’m used to being busy. I get antsy if I sit still for too long.”
“Has your outlet always been cleaning?” he asked, making his way toward the coffee machine.
“Ah, no. Not really. I spent a good chunk of it backpacking through a couple countries recently. And picking up odd jobs.”
“What kind of jobs?” he asked.
“Well, some were just general day jobs to make some cash. Others were… the kind of jobs I can’t really talk about,” I told him.
“The kind of jobs your father might have helped you get?” he asked.
“Well… some of his acquaintances anyway,” I admitted, not surprised that he knew about my dad.
Everyone knew about my father and his little… hobbies. The ones that ended with bodies melting in a bathtub.
I’d been protected from the truth for about, oh, nine years of my life.
Until, of course, I just so happened to sneak out when my mom wasn’t looking and follow my father because I’d always been curious about what sort of “work” he did that I wasn’t allowed to know about, that my parents never even talked about.
“Christ!” my father had hissed when he turned around to find me standing in the doorway, his body moving to try to block mine.
But it had been too late; I’d seen it all.
I should have been horrified.
I guess I hadn’t fallen far from my father’s tree, though, because I’d been somewhat indifferent to it all.
Especially after he’d explained his mission. Taking scumbags out of the world who had somehow slipped through the cracks of the prison-industrial complex.
“Most of the bad men, baby girl, the really bad men… they never get caught. Because they have too much money or too many protections. And they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”
He made sure they didn’t.
By the time I was seventeen, I’d even been assisting him. My mom wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of her little girl yanking teeth out of the jaws of corpses, but, hey, at least she knew I would never be squeamish if I ever had to go to drastic measures to protect myself.
I hadn’t actually taken a life until after I’d left Navesink Bank. And it hadn’t exactly been intentional, either.
But let’s just say… every single country in the world had men in it who thought that consent was optional, who didn’t think twice about trying to overpower you because, in their mind, there was nothing you could do.
Except, of course, there were some of us who could defend ourselves.
The problem was, he was big and he was strong and I was fading fast against him.
And there was a bit of glass on the ground.
So, you know, I did what I had to do.
By the time I crawled out from under him, I was saturated in his blood.
I’d taken the glass with me to wash up in a nearby river, wiping it clean then shattering it under my foot, and then I’d gotten the hell out of that country as fast as I could.
It was from there that I called home, that I told my father about what had happened.
We’d talked for hours and when he’d concluded that I wasn’t all shaken up about it, he’d he knew some people I might want to meet on my travels.
At some point, he showed me how to navigate the dark web, to find jobs that would pay a lot and require a very specific set of skills. The kind of skills he’d taught me. Often, it wasn’t even actually hurting anyone, just helping guys clean up after themselves so they didn’t end up in prison.
It wasn’t glamorous work. And it usually had me around some of the scummiest men and women the world had to offer. But it gave me experience, and a reputation, and enough money to fund my travels and even put a little bit away for when I decided it was time to head home and figure out a future for myself.
“Anything the club needs to worry about?”
“Nah. I mean I kept a pretty low profile. No one actually knew my real name. And it was all across Europe. We’re in the clear.”
“I’ll take your word on that,” Brooks said, nodding. “Have you… well, finally,” he said when Valen and Voss moved into the kitchen, still sweaty from the gym.
And, damn it, that made Valen’s shirt stick to his body, making me once again aware of his muscles.
I didn’t want to think about it, but I’d totally glanced at him when he’d come in late the night before, changing real quick in front of his cabinet.
It had been dark, but I’d been able to see some lines of his muscles and the smattering of tattoos all over his body.