Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry.” Tears build in my throat but never roll. I stand back to my feet, running my hand through my hair. I’m seventeen and about to be thrown down a spiral life.
My eyes rest on him. I see nothing when I look back through him. I step over my mother, the blood-sodden carpet smushing as I get closer to Jared. The bullet hole weeps with blood and snotty brain matter. “Fuck you. I’m wicked enough.”
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. It may have been hours. Days. Minutes. I watch as the flames in the open fire turn to burning hot coals. Until the air gets cold enough to snake up my spine.
There’s a knock on the door.
I ignore it. They’ll go away.
They knock again. “Police! Open up!”
Tossing the gun into the middle of the room, I push myself up from the sofa and take the steps to the front door. I squeeze the handle and open it to two officers and a man hanging back dressed in a suit. He wears a long trench coat and has a cigar hanging out his mouth like he just walked off the set of some mafia movie.
I stare back at them. “They’re in the lounge.” Widening the door to allow them in, I slide down the wall near the hallway table, drawing my knees up to my chest. I don’t know what they’re doing in the other room, but I know I’m going to jail. I know that what I thought would happen, obviously hasn’t, and that everything has turned to shit.
The man in the suit kneels down beside me. “Son, there were reports of gunshots. I was in the area, so I thought I’d tag along. You want to tell me what happened here tonight?” Has Poppy come down and I haven’t known?
Shit. Poppy.
“He killed her, so I killed him. Simple.” I stare at the family portrait hanging on the wall. “I came down to see he had already killed her. He didn’t think I could do it.” I shrug. “So I did.”
The smell of Cuban smoke wraps around me, and I shuffle to the side to watch him. He doesn’t look familiar.
“You can take me to jail, but can you please make sure Poppy goes to a good home?”
His eyes come to mine and I follow the mustache that curls around the corners of his lips. “You’re not going to prison, son.” He stands to his feet. “Get up, get your sister, and pack some bags. You’re coming with me.”
“What?” I look up at him again but follow his command. Anything he wants, I do. There’s an air of authority that hangs over him, and I know I have to take him seriously.
“I don’t like to repeat myself, son. Go get your sister, and I’ll meet you both outside.”
Poppy doesn’t pack much even though I tell her to. I break the news to her and hold her as she cries all of her tears into my chest. It’s an hour later that I finally manage to drag her downstairs.
He’s already waiting outside a black SUV, that same cigar burning bright orange in the dark night.
“In the car.”
“How do I know you’re not going to hurt us?”
The man turns over his shoulder and the dimple on his cheek sinks in. “You don’t, but I’m all you’ve got.” He has a point. Opening the back door, I push Poppy in gently, shutting the door once we are inside. He pulls us away from the curb and every now and then, our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.
“Where are you taking us?” I ask when I notice he drives us onto the highway, the one that heads out of town.
“To my house.”
“What? What about my parents?” I could have just directed Poppy into a bad situation. Why haven’t I called the cops? Wait… the cops are here.
“They’re gone, son. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to help you both because, well, shit, I don’t know why.”
“You do,” I say, studying the way the corner of his eyes crinkle as if reliving a memory. “You do know why you saved us.”
His hazel eyes meet mine. “Yes. I guess I do.”
After a few minutes, when I know he’s not going to elaborate further, I add, “So do you usually take in strays?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he pulls us into a long cobblestone driveway. The entry is lit with two lanterns sitting on high posts, and at the end of the drive is a little tower where a man is parked inside, pushing the button to let his car through.
He pushes the button near his steering wheel, turning in his chair to face me. “Never. But let me lay down some rules to you both being here. One, stay away from my daughter.” Tsk. I don’t bother telling him that I’m not interested. He continues. “And two? I’m never your enemy.” He pushes open his driver’s side door and I shuffle out the back, tucking Poppy beneath my arm. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but right now all I care about is keeping Poppy safe, and to keep Poppy safe, I need time to think. Worst-case scenario, I’d go to prison. I could live with that knowing that that piece of shit can’t touch her.