Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Black’s response comes in the form of a silent nod.
Emil Barone keeps walking as Maxim Nikulin seeps out from the shadows to join him. They walk in time without speaking a word. When they both get into a fancy-looking sports car and move to drive away, I panic. “Fuck. Black, follow ‘em.” I rush toward the white-guy sedan, throwing the passenger door open, and shouting, “We’re gonna lose ‘em!”
Black gets in, starts the car and we’re off, following far behind enough that neither man would notice.
This could be my lucky night.
If number four and five on my list are in business together, I won’t just kill both birds with a single stone.
I’ll collapse a fucking mountain on their heads.
“You’re losing them,” I grunt, and Black flips me the bird. I let out a low growl. “Get closer. You’re losing them.”
“I’m not losing them,” Black states confidently, but I see otherwise.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
My temper rises. “Yes, you fucking are.”
Black glances at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Trust me, Falco. I’m not.” He pauses a moment, before confessing quietly, “I know where they’re going.”
Huh?
“So,” I begin carefully, not sure what to make of Black’s tone. “Where are they going?”
From way back, we watch the expensive sports car turn into a closed off property, rich-looking. The whole place yells wealth. Big and daunting, it’s somewhere I would choose to reside.
“Who lives there?”
Ethan Black jerks his chin toward the property. “That’s the home of Evander MacDiarmid. Originally from Glasgow, he immigrated as a teenager with his father. They started the street gang, Highland Steel. Gained a somewhat cult following around these parts. Their crimes were the stuff of legends. They got serious, became one of the biggest firms in New York.” Black looks to me with a dark expression. “We need to back off. We know where this place is now, but MacDiarmid is not on the list. I can’t very well call in my men because one of your guys and another’s lap dog are in there.”
I know that, and it eats me up. Leaning back in the chair, I look up at the inside of the car roof and clench my fists in annoyance. “What do you suggest we do?”
“We wait,” he returns. “We know they’re both in the state. I’ll put a passport alert on Conti, but we both know he won’t need it, being that he flies privately. We’ll follow Emil to wherever he goes and put men on him. We’ll catch up with them another time. It’s not happening tonight, Twitch.” I feel his eyes on me. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted this to be over.”
My voice gruff, I tell him, “No, we do this right. Another week ain’t gonna kill me.”
Black breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Besides, I wouldn’t like to upset MacDiarmid’s wife.”
My brow furrows at that rather baffling comment, but I take the bait he set. “Why? Who is she?”
In the moonlight, a small smile tugs at Black’s lips. “Your sister, Manda.”
Surprise has me sitting up all the way.
Well, smack my ass and call me a bitch.
At what point do you give up in life?
I’ve survived so much already. Losing my mom at eleven. Given to an abusive husband at eighteen. Married to and rejected by another at twenty-four.
The hardest part of losing someone isn’t the good-bye, but rather learning to live without what they provided, and constantly trying to fill the void they leave behind when they go.
I’m not even mad at Julius.
Not really. Just hurt.
But I’ll try to push aside the gaping wound he caused. As the thought passes, my chest tightens unbearably, and another bout of tears takes hold of me, immobilizing me.
As soon as I walked into the reception area of The Sunflower Inn, a young man sitting behind the counter shot up out of his seat and rushed over toward me, wrapping his arms around me at the very moment I lost the use of my legs.
“PawPaw,” the man in his late teens called out as he held me, lowering me to the ground to sit on my bottom then stepping back.
I must’ve looked a sight, because when I raised my hand to tell him that I didn’t need any help, his eyes widened and he let out a low curse. That was when Duane appeared from out the back. He took one look at me and his shoulders drooped, a look of sadness crossing his weathered face. He came to kneel by my side, taking my cold, dirty hand in his, patting it in a fatherly action that had a sudden rush of emotion wash over me. Lips trembling, I lifted my free hand to cover my eyes then turned my head to the side as another torrent of tears escaped me. And when I cried, this time, the part of me that was rational and held me together broke free and was swept away as the flood of salt water streaked my face, dripping off of my chin.