Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I turn my head slowly and glance at the man with the broken tibia. He is still lying on the ground, white bone jutting through flesh, and staring at me with bulging eyes. Quickly, I rifle the pockets of the dead man underneath me, locate and retrieve his mobile phone. I scroll down to the last number and, sucking air in my lungs, walk over to where the first man is lying, looking at me with a mixture of hate and fear.
I thrust the mobile into his face. ‘Call your boss.’
He looks at me without blinking.
‘Call him or join your friends in hell.’
He looks around at his dead mates’ blood-soaked bodies, weighs up the situation, and grimaces. ‘You might as well kill me. I’m as good as dead if I call him anyway.’ I underestimated him. He’s a good judge of character. He’d rather take his chances with me than Nikita.
I press the button and hold the phone to my ear.
‘What?’ Tasha’s father barks.
‘Nikita, you’re losing your touch.’
There is a pause, then he speaks. His voice is deliberately pleasant and unruffled even though I know he must be fucking furious. ‘Well, well, I wasn’t expecting to hear your voice, Noah.’
‘You must be getting old, Nikita, sending boys to do a man’s work.’
‘Listen you little upstart low life. Come near my daughter again and I'll fucking kill you myself.’
The idea of Nikita killing me makes me laugh. As if he’s ever done his own wet work.
‘Let’s see how you laugh when your mouth is full of concrete.’
‘Well, if I were you I’d stop with the weird fantasies, and deal with the more pressing scenario you’ve got going on here. It might be a good idea to get your garbage disposal people over, like pronto, before the cops are all over it.’
I hear his brain turning over.
‘You should pray that I don’t turn up dead, even by accident. Because the cops will be getting a USB stick detailing the exact money trail of that drug deal gone wrong. Remember Hammurabi?’
He doesn’t say anything but I can feel his shock. Zane and I got a copy ages ago, and we just kept it for insurance purposes. You never know when you need these things.
‘I’ll be seeing you real soon, Nikita.’ I say, and hang up.
I turn my attention back to the man on the ground.
‘Please, please don’t kill me,’ he begs. ‘It’s not personal. We had orders. I’m sorry.’
Yeah, sure he's sorry. He’s playing me for a chump. He's sorry I'm standing over him, he’s sorry his friends can’t help him, and he’s sorry his busted leg means he can't run away.
I feel my adrenaline stop pumping as I stand above him, knife in hand. He eyes me fearfully and curls up like a child, sniveling, begging for mercy. Acting!
‘You’re a soldier, you knew the risks,’ I tell him.
I squeeze the handle. I can’t kill a wounded, helpless man in cold blood. Anyway, he is more valuable alive than dead.
‘I’ll let you live so you can pass a message on to your boss.’
He nods violently.
‘Tell him Tasha Evanoff belongs to me, and I will kill every man that is sent to come between us.’
I reach down with one hand and grab him by his trembling neck. With my other hand I draw my blade slowly and purposefully along his cheek, from ear to mouth. As the blade tears his flesh he howls out an awful scream. It ricochets through the emptiness of the alleyway. When I am done I let him sink to the ground by my feet.
‘Remember,’ I snarl. ‘If I ever see you again. I will kill you.’
I step away from him, remove a handkerchief from my jacket, and wipe the handle and blade clean of my fingerprints. That’s when I see the bright crimson stain that is spreading over my ribs and down to my abdomen.
I wasn’t fast enough. I’ve been stabbed, and it looks pretty fucking bad. I chuck the knife to the ground and try to walk, but my legs feel like they don’t belong to me. I feel breathless after just a few steps. The adrenaline and fear kept me from feeling the pain before, but now it hurts like hell. Wincing, I lurch forward.
I just need to reach my car.
I’ll call Zane. I push my hand into my jacket pocket to pull out my phone, and shit, fuck, my hand won’t obey the commands of my brain. I don’t want to be here when Nikita’s men turn up. Life won’t be worth living. Now what the fuck do I do? Taking in a deep breath that feels like I’ve swallowed fire, I grab onto the wall and try to pull myself along, but the life is quickly draining from my body.
Twenty more steps, Noah.
You can do it.