Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I walk into the office, the wooden floor beneath my oxfords creaking eerily as I do. I’ve been standing outside the open door watching him for a few minutes. He didn’t change the locks and there’s no one else here on a late Wednesday night. Just him and me. Well, not quite, there are a few broads in the far back. I can hear them from here. Maybe they’re waiting for him with exactly what he needs. I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Taking a break from the snow?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he sneers at me, ripping his red-rimmed eyes away from the computer screen. With the city lights peeking through the drawn blinds, the room is bathed in a diffuse glow. It’s darker than I’d like it to be in here with only the lamp on his desk illuminating the space.
“What I really want to know is, why?” The question leaves me coldly as I stalk closer to him.
“Why what?” he asks me, leaning back in his seat and I can faintly hear him pulling out a drawer, ever so slowly.
Racking the slide on the gun in my hand, I raise it slowly. “Uh, uh, uh,” I reprimand him. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve aimed a gun at someone. I’ve never wanted to pull the trigger more, though. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you.”
He raises his hands slowly, cocking his head and letting out a sick laugh. “So, you here to kill me now? Is that it?”
“I should, shouldn’t I?”
“For what, exactly? Spit it out, you coward,” he scoffs at me. His eyes appear nearly black with the lack of light.
“I’m the coward?” The ridicule comes complete with an arched brow. I have to be careful with the loaded gun. My anger is putting me on edge, the adrenaline in my veins pumping hard and every second that passes makes my body temperature go up just a little more.
One of the girls from the back room yells out, “You all right in there?” in response to my raised voice.
Before I can respond, James answers her. “Just stay where you are.” Good old James, he knows how to talk to the ladies.
“What do you want, Evan?” he questions, slowly placing his hands palm down on the desk.
His arm twitches and I can tell he’s fucked up.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask in return. “You’re not looking so good.”
“You look pretty fucked yourself,” he spits out without wasting a second and forces a smile to his face.
“We saw you watching,” I say, offering him a small piece of the puzzle.
“Watching what?”
“At Rockefeller Center.”
“Is that so?” I hate this game. This back-and-forth where no real information is given. “And what exactly was I watching?” he asks with a smirk on his face although I can see in his eyes he’s curious.
I shrug and say, “Doesn’t matter, does it? What I want to know is what you plan on doing.”
He laughs abruptly, deeply and from his gut, but any trace of happiness is immediately replaced with pain. He nearly doubles over and I raise the gun again, my heart beating hard as I prepare for him to come up with a weapon.
He doesn’t, though, and when he sees the gun aimed right between his eyes, he forces his hands to the desk again.
“You stop doing coke? I guess Tony told you it was bad for you,” I say flatly, swallowing thickly as my hands sweat and the gun feels heavier.
He groans an answer I can’t hear then winces again.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You got the shakes?”
“Fuck you,” he manages to get out as his eyes shut.
“You paranoid now? Worried someone’s going to do to you what you tried to do to me?”
He opens his eyes slowly, the light shining from the lamp creating shadows on his face. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“The coke you laced. You scared someone’s going to do the same to you? Give you what you have coming?”
“It was from my personal stash, you prick.”
I almost call him a liar, I almost tell him to shove it and put a bullet in his chest, so I can get back to Kat and end this shit. But the look on his face stops me.
He’s always been a damn good liar. I know that much about him. But I’m better with tells.
He adds, “If I wanted you dead … well, I know how to use a gun.”
“You want to know what I think?”
“Sure, you can say that I’m intrigued,” he retorts.
“I think you’re greedy,” I tell him as I lower the gun.
“Greedy?” he repeats with a crooked smile.
“I think you wanted to prove a point to your wife.” I lay it out there for him. I’m not messing around; I want this prick to know that I’m fully aware of what he’s doing.