Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I clear my throat, and think through my answer, taking my time to chew the pad thai. But there’s no point in bending the facts now if he is to stay at my side. “It’s my job. I take out people who the law won’t get its hands on.”
“How does it work? I’m guessing you don’t usually find letters with people’s fucked-up fantasies?”
It’s kind of nice of him to take interest. After all, it will be his future too. And I get to actually tell him the truth, a refreshing thing in my world. I can only be honest with my victims. And those conversations never last long.
“I have a guy. He handles people, vets them. Sometimes, I find customers on the dark web, but some come to him, since he… he has a reputation. You know, one of those old school Mafia guys who have a restaurant as a business front? That’s Marty.”
I sigh and meet Rowan’s gaze. He’s curious, I can see it in his glinting eyes, and that makes me so proud of him. With the right guidance, he can become his best self, unafraid of the past or future. “It feels good when they’re bad people. Someone might say a cheating husband, or a woman who sets fire to a bunch of paintings don’t deserve to die, but I find out the story behind the request, and if I think that it’s a hurt that needs retribution, if the payment is there, I provide the revenge my clients crave.”
Rowan watches me with so much interest he forgets to eat. I nudge his fork. “So you decide?” he asks.
I shrug. “Someone has to. Why not me? Would you rather I didn’t find your letter? Who’d have dealt with Ted? The police?”
Rowan shakes his head. “No, I’m glad you found it. My therapist keeps telling me I can’t be the judge and juror for those men, that I have to let the system do its job, and you know what I think? I think it’s a bunch of bullshit. They slipped through the cracks because of lack of physical evidence and alibis, but I know what they did. I was there.”
I nod, pulling my leg up to the sofa so I can face him without moving much. There’s so much passion in his eyes now, so much anger, and I can be the one to give him closure. “Do you want to tell me what happened? I did my research, but news articles and police information never tells the whole story.”
He takes a deep breath but then turns his head to kiss my fingers. I’m so shocked I freeze at the tender gesture, ready to give him anything he might desire. It’s been so long… too long since I’ve connected with anyone in a way that hasn’t been strictly about sex. But here he is, giving me his attention, ready to see what I really am.
“I was sixteen when it happened. My dad ran a bicycle refurbishment company, and one of his employees was a junkie who just wouldn’t stop stealing, so eventually Dad had to let him go. The guy got so riled up he talked his buddies into coming to our house. He told them we were rich, had lots of jewelry and stuff like that.
“We lived… not exactly in the countryside, but our house was secluded, so no one was able to hear the screaming and commotion. They dragged me and my grandma into the living room. They broke her arm in the process. She was crying so much, but still begged them not to hurt me. Patrick, the junkie, he tried to interrogate my dad, beat him up really bad, despite my dad telling them they could take whatever they want. But there were no riches, no safe, no secret stashes of cash.
“They wouldn’t believe him, and the threats escalated. They thought he didn’t want to give up his money, but there really was nothing to give up. Still, they broke my mom’s hand with a hammer, and when they decided it wasn’t enough, Grass, this absolute fucking psycho…” Rowan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “He cut my mom’s throat. If the situation wasn’t bad enough by then, all hell broke loose. They started arguing between each other. Not all of them wanted to kill us, but when they realized they wouldn’t be able to get away with us as the witnesses, our fate was sealed. My grandma tried to get to the phone, my dad begged for my life, but they spared no one. My dad managed to free me, told me to run. I wanted to grab a gun from the kitchen, but I only got so far, and in the struggle, one of them, this guy Miles Brown, pushed me down the stairs to the basement.