Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“Fine.” He exhaled. “And yes, as far as I’m aware. But he’s definitely been busy.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s taken out thirty-four on my list.”
I jerked to stop. “He’s killed thirty-four traffickers?”
“Not over the phone. I’ll see you in Tuscany. I’d rather not involve you, but he won’t believe me if I tell him you’re alive without proof. He’ll think I’m lying and will probably kill himself rather than believe me.”
“Sounds like something he would do.”
“Then get here quick. We’re running out of time.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
………………………….
Henri
SUNSHINE GILDED THE WINERY, revealing the glittering frost on the ground.
The vines were winterised. Sleeping until spring. The rows neat and barren, revealing a path toward the sprawling villa at the top of the hill.
Terraced gardens and rock walls cut the gardens into different zones. One with a gazebo, and another with a swing set, the rolling lawn surrounding a covered swimming pool.
The estate didn’t have fences like the last one, but it did have its own defence.
Wide-open space.
With the vines leafless, I had no coverage.
With the sun climbing up the sky, I didn’t have the darkness to hide in.
I should wait until tonight.
I should go sleep in some barn and eat at a local eatery.
But…
I glanced at my leg.
The drive had taken longer because I’d had to stop and use my belt as a tourniquet. The bleeding had slowed but frustrating numbness crawled down my leg. My foot was dead and I’d grown acquainted with the light-headedness of blood loss all over again.
I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for tonight.
If I wanted to take out the rest of these monsters, I had to do it now.
And then, I can finally sleep.
I sighed and rested my head on the steering wheel.
Christ, that sounded good.
So unbelievably good.
Just another hour or so and I would be free.
Let’s do this, then.
Gathering all my strength, I tightened the black t-shirt I’d wrapped around my bitten arm and hauled my very dead, very heavy carcass out of the car. I’d tucked the ostentatious Lamborghini behind a farmer’s lichen-covered wall.
I’d have a long walk.
Going to the trunk at the front of the car, I popped it open and dressed myself in every weapon I’d stolen.
Automatic rifles slung over my shoulders, pistols hooked into my waistband. Even a grenade I’d found in one sick fuck’s den dropped into my pocket.
Tightening the belt around my leg, I slammed the trunk closed and walked.
The sunshine was my enemy as I cut across the farmer’s field and did my best to stay in the shadows of the windbreak trees. I managed to traverse most of the vineyard on some other person’s land.
Sheep came to sniff me.
A blackbird took off cackling.
My steps grew heavier and slower the higher up the hill I climbed.
But I didn’t stop.
Death whispered on the edge of my mind.
All that darkness gathered behind me to push me the final way.
Panting hard, I cut across the rock wall and took a deep breath.
They’d be able to see me from here. They’d see a bloody, exhausted man bristling with weapons traipsing uninvited across their garden.
Human instinct to survive made me shrink back into the shadows.
But bloodlust and eagerness to have this whole life over made me step boldly into the sunshine.
I waited to be shot.
I begged them to take the chance.
When nothing tore into me, I frowned in disappointment.
Walking to your own funeral was easy when you were ready to die, but it still took energy to fight against the stupid animal inside howling to stay alive.
Fisting a revolver and the grenade, I marched right up to the house.
Fate once again cloaked me in protection, keeping me invisible even when I wanted to be seen.
Ripping open the patio doors leading to the lounge, I stood framed in sunshine and held my breath.
Come on…
Come on…
Fucking nothing.
Jesus Christ.
What’s a man got to do around here to get someone to murder him?
My leg gave out as I stepped into the gorgeous country home. Huge artwork of olden-day winemaking graced the high whitewashed walls. Sculptures of grapes and big oak barrels used as side tables hinted clearly what this estate grew.
And still nothing.
A discarded coffee cup sat on a side table, a curl of steam still twirling.
Huh…
My eyes narrowed
An ambush then.
I grinned.
Fine.
With insanity staining my thoughts, I pulled the pin out of the grenade and tossed it into the living room beyond.
A few men’s shouts, a quick feminine scream, followed by running.
Then BOOM.
The noise and dust and smoke and shake reminded me of the detonations in Victor’s castle. One of the massive paintings fell off the walls, smashing against an oversized bottle of wine.
The noise of glass shattering on travertine tiles added to all the other chaos as I limped toward the decimated living room.
I couldn’t see from the smoke.
My eyes stung from the dust.
My leg gave out again, and I tripped.