Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Not long, he’s already waiting,” Eli tells me, but the playfulness, the easiness from the stairwell are all but forgotten.
He glances at me as I keep my pace steady with his, taking strides more often since he’s taller than me. The sound of a car driving up the next street over makes him pause and he holds his arm out, stopping me from moving out into the street and pushing me closer to the brick fence of the house to my left. A moment passes, and the sound of the car diminishes. The voices from the same earpiece Cason was wearing make me stare at Eli. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I know he’s getting information about something.
Dread and panic mix together, making my legs feel weak. Eli glances up at the house, to the second floor and waits, then a sound creeps into his ear and he nods.
The nod wasn’t for me and as Eli looks down at me and smiles politely, both of us know it.
“It’s clear, Miss…” He stops and clears his throat then says, “Aria.”
The dread’s still there, making my hands clammy and causing my throat to tighten.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t do this,” Eli tells me and continues to stare straight ahead even as I look up at him, willing him to look me in the eyes.
Since he doesn’t look back at me, I stare straight ahead as well. “If you thought I’d lie down and let this go on without trying to stop it, you were wrong.”
“There’s no way to stop this.”
“I stood by before and did nothing while I watched family die,” I speak quietly and swallow the knot that forms in my throat as I think of my mother. After taking a moment to compose myself, I tell Eli with finality, “I won’t do it again.”
Chapter 11
Carter
I hate being in this office. Watching cameras and waiting. I don’t miss the rush of being on the streets, but I hate not being beside the men who are risking their lives for me right now. Without the first move made on this side, the leaks and intel can’t be trusted.
I’m waiting. The adrenaline competes inside of me with the hate and pent-up rage. And here I sit. Waiting.
“Carter.” Jace’s voice carries through the closed door. I haven’t left since Daniel slammed it shut earlier and it’s only now that I remember our fight. My brothers rotate in and out of my office, I’m used to them coming and going. And seemingly forgetting past conversations in order to handle business.
“Come in,” I call out to him, and instantly the door opens.
“The Red Room, the stash in the backroom is gone, and the fucker who broke in last night to take it was found face down in the river this morning.” Jace’s words come out like an assault as he paces to the chair across from me, gripping the back of it and staring at me waiting for answers.
All day, this is what I do. Accept information and move chess pieces. That’s how true empires are built. The bloodshed is nearly the conquering of a knight. Some poor fool dies, so the men with power make a simple move, knowing more are to come and there’s more game left to play.
“Do the cops have any idea who did it?” I ask him, bringing my thumb to my chin and running the pad along the stubble there. I need to shave. Jace and I are more alike than I care to admit. The back and forth of the motion keeps me focused on Jase and this shitstorm.
Jace speaks in rapid fire, giving me all the details from his conversation with Officer Harold. No leads on a suspect, no trace of him on any city cameras once he leaves the edge of town and heads down to the woods on the edge of Jersey. Yet, he’s found dead at the river next to his house hours later.
“It doesn’t add up,” I answer Jace, meeting his gaze as he lowers himself to the chair opposite mine on the other side of my desk. His thumb raps on the armrest as he nods.
“Someone’s fucking with us. Letting us know that they can steal from us, kill on our turf, and they can get away with it.”
“Marcus,” I say the name without thinking. “He’s the only man who’s ever been able to get away with that shit.”
“And only because he’s a fucking ghost with no face.” He takes a calming breath before adding, “Just one look on a tape and we’ve got his ass.”
“How many decades now has he gotten away with it? Any territory, any head he wants severed?”
“Why fuck with us though? Why us?” He leans forward, letting the anger show in his voice and his posture.
“Daniel turned on him first, blaming him for what happened to Addison with no proof.” Instead of indulging in the rage of having product stolen from us and the opportunity for justice torn from my hands, I consider everything logically. It’s how it needs to be handled. With nothing but cold-hearted control.