Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I have to get to Skylar. And Violet’s watching.
I hit him again, and again, until he’s whimpering and bloodied, his eyes swollen shut.
“Cain,” Violet whispers. “We have to go. He deserves this. He deserves to be tortured and raped just like those girls he helped hurt. But we have to get Skylar.”
“This asshole slipped roofies to unsuspecting women. He helped a known rapist who now might have my fucking sister.”
I don’t think about the choices. Out of time, I pull my gun and slide the silencer on. I ignore his pleas, the way he cries like a baby and begs for mercy. I put the gun to his temple.
“You’ll never hurt another innocent woman.”
“No! God, no, please,” he says through blood and spittle. The hand holding my gun shakes.
“You can look away, Miss Price.”
“No.”
I pull the trigger.
Violet watches with a slight frown as his body hits the floor, blood splashing on the floor beside her. She kneels and takes his pulse.
“You’re right. He won’t.”
I call Joe.
“429 Might Street. Team alpha.”
“Five minutes out, sir.”
I hang up the phone and look at Violet. She doesn’t look upset, as I expected her to. She doesn’t even look disturbed. Her lips are a thin line, and something like triumph lights her beautiful, vivid eyes so they sparkle like amethyst.
That should warn me. Sane people don’t watch someone being executed and rejoice in their death. But I don’t feel anything but a sort of camaraderie.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
She gives one short shake of her head. “Don’t be. I’m sorry his death was so quick.” She stands in silent acceptance that I just killed a man. We both know it’s only a prelude to what I’ll do when I find who he was helping.
We don’t talk. We barely look at each other.
There was a time when I could still remember the names and faces of the people I’d killed.
That was a long time ago.
In exactly three minutes, our team has arrived to take care of the details.
I jerk my chin at her. “Let’s go.”
This time, she walks with me of her own accord and there’s no need to threaten her.
“You didn’t hesitate.”
“Hesitate?”
“To kill him.” Her voice is a bit strained, but she looks otherwise normal.
“No. Why would I?”
She shrugs. “You just… you didn’t second-guess.”
“No.”
“You shot him because he deserved it, and you have no regrets.”
I don’t even think about my answer before I speak. “Yes.”
“If I ask you an honest question…”
“You’ll get an honest answer.”
A beat passes before she tips her head to the side and asks, “Do these pants make me look fat?”
I stifle a snort. “How can you make jokes at a time like this?” I can’t help the corners of my lips from turning upward.
“You’ll see I’m surprisingly skilled at comic relief during the absolute worst times. It’s one of my skills I should’ve mentioned during our interview.”
The door to the room shuts fast behind us, hiding our team and the body they’ll dispose of.
Our boots stomp heavily on the concrete toward my truck.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
She releases a shuddering breath. I look at her sharply. Good God, she’s not going to start… crying. Is she?
But no. When she catches me looking at her, her eyes are dry and her lips are in a thin, firm line. “I pulled up everything I could on our little friend.”
“The one we left with our other friends?”
“The very same.”
“Tell me in the truck. Someone helped him, and I’m not sure who, but we aren’t safe here.”
She steps up the pace, and I move closer to her. When we reach the truck, I don’t wait for her to fight her way up and bang the hell out of her shins again. She thinks I didn’t see that. I remember the feel of her against me when I pinned her to the ground, and the feel of her body pressed to mine while we crouched in wait. I want to feel her again.
Before she has a chance to react, I reach for her and lift her up as easily as if she were a child. Her feet scissor and she gives a little squeak, but I don’t wait around for the inevitable lecture or eye roll. I plop her down safely and walk to my side.
As soon as I open my door, she starts in.
“Excuse me,” she says sternly, before I get the door to the truck closed shut.
“I know, don’t touch you, don’t help you, let you bruise the shit out of your shins. No.” I crank the engine and look through my rearview mirrors, not an easy feat considering they fucked my mirrors up.
“Why? How? Seriously, how do you justify being such a control freak?”
“Me? Control freak?” I laugh quietly to myself, and mutter, “You have no idea.” I would enjoy the ever-living hell out of having some modicum of control over her.