Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Which means I have to trust them with mine.” She groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “Are you going to get me killed? Seriously, just tell me if you are.”
“No, I’m not. I promise.” I lean closer to her. “My turn to ask a question. Do you have friends?”
Her eyes snap open. She looks angry, not that I can blame her. Nobody wants to feel like a loner. Like I’ve felt for a very long time. “Of course I have friends,” she says.
“Who are they?”
“If you’re asking just to piss me off—”
I shake my head. “No, I need to know who to protect in case things go sour. Anyone important in your life will be a target for Burian if he realizes you’re working with me.”
Her face pales. “You didn’t say anything about that.”
“Don’t worry, Carmine will help protect them. He’s a mobster, remember? Well, reformed mobster anyway, but he still has muscle. Names, please.”
She closes her eyes, groaning. “My cousin, Amy. Fran, a girl I went to high school with. Penny, I met her waiting tables.” She glances at me. “Can I call one of them? My cousin, maybe?”
I rub my forehead. We just discussed this. “I’ll give you a clean phone, all right? With only their numbers.” That seems to make her happy. “Anyone else?”
“Nobody I talk to, other than Grandpop.”
“Let me guess. Taking care of him sucks up all your time and you don’t have much of a social life.”
That annoys her all over again. There goes the good will I might’ve won with the phone thing. Not that I can blame her. Sometimes I’m a little too blunt.
She pushes up off the couch, stalking away. “You don’t know me, okay?” She whirls around, eyes hard. “You have no clue what I’ve been through.”
“I can make some guesses.” I stand, moving toward her. She backs off, teeth clenched, until she bumps into the huge windows overlooking Dallas. I like the thrill of fear in her eyes. I like the way she’s only half-heartedly trying to get away. Like she doesn’t really want to escape. “Raised by your grandfather, which means your parents either died or abandoned you. Either way, that’s traumatic in itself. But your grandmother is also gone. I’m guessing she died, based on the pictures of her in the house.”
She looks down at her feet, face turning red. “Good guesses. What’s the point of this again? Trying to dredge up my ugly past to make me upset? Because it’s working.”
I want to touch her. Console her. But I keep my hands to myself. I want her to hear my words, not focus on my skin.
“I want you to know that we’re more alike than you realize. I bounced around when I was younger, grew up in foster care, at least until a social worker realized I was reading Plato and Aristotle at ten years old. I got adopted by a couple of well-meaning folks in the Dallas area, shoved into gifted programs, got an education more or less rammed down my throat. That’s how I ended up the way I am.”
“Lucky you,” she says, softening only slightly. “Difference between us is I’ve never been given a chance like that. You got an education. You went to college. I didn’t. I’m just some nothing girl from nowhere. The only worthwhile thing about me is I know what this Burian guy looks like and you don’t. Quit telling me we’re alike, because we’re not.”
She brushes past me. I let her go, not willing to push the point. If she can’t see it yet, I can’t force her.
But there’s so much of me in her and her in me. Similarities, at least. It’s what keeps me attracted to her, keeps me craving more—that and the way she moans when I get down between her legs.
That helps.
I turn away, starting to plan our next move, when her phone starts ringing. She returns, holding it up, looking pale.
“It’s him,” she says.
Chapter 12
Renata
Like last time, Lanzo plugs the phone into his laptop before nodding at me. Butterflies ping through my guts as I hit the accept button then put it on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Renata, I hope you’re doing well.” Burian’s voice sounds muffled like he’s speaking to me through a cotton mask. “I apologize for the abrupt end to our last conversation earlier today.”
“It’s no problem. I was only going to ask you about payment.” Lanzo nods at me like he wants me to keep talking. “Since I did what you asked—”
“Payment will come shortly,” he says, cutting me off. “I have more work for you, if you’re interested.”
“I’m not sure working for you is smart considering I haven’t gotten paid yet.”
Another soft chuckle. “Very clever. That’s why I like you. Come now, Renata. Do I seem like the kind of man that would go back on my word?”