Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
I blink. “What? Are you serious?”
“He claims he and Pocher are tight, implying he’s talked to him, which I do not believe, but he showed himself in public. That means he intends to stay, and he’s feeling cocky as he’s aligned with someone powerful.”
“Like Pocher.”
“Exactly. We have to find out if that’s a real relationship. We look stupid and disposable, a gnat to be swatted, if we don’t know what is happening.”
“I can’t believe my father or Pocher would want a kingpin back from the dead at my father’s party.”
“They won’t, which sends a subtle message to my father. It will put him in his place in the shadows. We don’t even have to actually invite him. I can tell him we’ll see if we can clear his invitation with Pocher and your father. He’ll object. No matter what, he’ll know he’s not welcome, but we’ll make it clear we know, too.”
“Do we tell Pocher and my father you’re inviting him?”
“No. I can read my father. I’ll know if he’s talked to Pocher. When he declines, we’ll invite him to dinner.”
“Will he come?”
“He’ll come, if he’s alive to come.”
I down the contents of my wine glass, meant to be sipped, the rush of wine and the voice of my father in my head rushing over me. Let them believe they’re in control. The fact that they don’t know the truth is a weakness. Kane’s effectively using my father’s strategy against our enemies, but will my father see through it for that very reason?
Or is he perhaps using that very strategy against us, and we’re the ones being played? It’s a horrible thought, and I grab a new slice and stuff my face with it, looking for comfort when I’m more likely to find a bellyache.
And another murder.
The room might smell of pizza, but murder is in the air.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Killers know killers.
Those words replay in my mind long after Kane falls asleep. I lay awake with Ghost on my mind, aware that his obsession with me is not normal, but neither am I, and that’s the point.
Ghost knows I’m not normal.
Ghost knows I’m a killer.
And while, for the most part, I’ve found a way to accept that part of me that can kill, justifying it as being part of my job, this is mostly to the credit of Kane, who still manages to see the balance of light in me to his dark. I often cannot any longer. But having Ghost see the dark, really see it, seems like something that should bother me.
But it doesn’t, and I tell myself that’s simply survival. I need Ghost to know what I’m capable of doing, who I can be, and how much control I have to be able to turn it off and on at will.
Mostly.
But I can’t arrest someone like Ghost. He knows too much about Kane. He knows too much about me.
That leaves only life or death for Ghost.
I’m not sure either is a good answer.
Chapter Thirty
There is blood in the water…
I blink awake with a gasp, having dreamt of the night I killed my attacker, the fog of the drugs having done nothing to douse the fury and helplessness of my attack. Kane had been right to bury the body. I wouldn’t have gone to jail, but I would have been considered mentally compromised. Even if I’d been reinstated after counseling, every step I took would have been analyzed.
Kane rolls over and wraps himself around me, his scent flaring in my nostrils, and for a moment, I sink against him and allow myself the vulnerability of needing this, of being human. Once again, he’s brought me back to him. And this moment has Elsa sliding into my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been distracted by Ghost. I don’t even know if Elsa has a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or whatever. Does she have anyone helping her, supporting her?
I roll away from Kane and grab my phone from the nightstand, punching in the autodial for Tic Tac. “Lilah,” he murmurs groggily. “You know it’s five a.m.?”
“No, but thanks for the time update. Do you do temperature, too?” I don’t wait for his grumble. “I need—”
“Stuff. Right. What?”
“Elsa. Does she have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Close friend? Someone that might help us look for her? Or someone we need to be ready for because she has help?”
“I know the answer. And that answer is no. She dated a guy in the military who got killed in a chopper accident.”
“Fuck. She’s nothing but tragedy.”
“Agreed. She seems to have stayed to herself after she lost him.”
“Where did he live?”
“Maryland.”
“That checks out,” I say, and I sit up to find Kane scooting up the headboard, not at all surprised about my abrupt burst into action. He leans over and kisses me, to whisper, “Coffee.”
I cover the receiver and say, “Please.”