Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“It’s not our debt to pay,” I repeated to Damon.
Moriarty watched me, ignoring my brother altogether. The smirk on his face suddenly sickened me.
“You mother’s been here once before too. Well, multiple times. Renata loved Florence, after all.”
“Don’t say her name,” I said.
Damon’s hand closed over my shoulder.
“That’s enough,” he told Moriarty. “Raphael. We need to leave. Now.”
I glanced at Damon, saw how some of the color had drained from his face.
“See, your father and I had a falling-out a very long time ago. Maybe around the time you two were born. He couldn’t wait to put babies in your mother. Thinking it would keep her bound to him.”
I stood, my breathing tight now. The men who were sitting in the armchairs also rose to their feet. The two men before Moriarty’s desk stepped closer together, letting Damon and me know it would be stupid to launch any sort of physical attack.
“But your father, well, I suppose Renata gave him reason to question. Even your paternity, believe it or not. Right up to the very end. The man didn’t even believe in the truth of science.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
“Raphael. We’re leaving. Now.”
This time, Damon’s command carried a very real sense of urgency.
“Renata, may her soul rest in peace—”
Damon cut him off. “Leave the dead be,” he said through gritted teeth.
I looked at Damon, but he didn’t seem as upset as me. And the look in his eyes the moment they met mine was one of resignation.
“Damon. Always reasonable,” Moriarty started again. “What’s Zachariah like? Oh, you don’t know. He’s missing in action or was he AWOL? I can’t remember.”
“You’re not getting her house,” Damon said. “Let’s go, Raphael. We need to leave.”
Moriarty touched something on his desk, and the doors opened. The two men outside came in. “Get him out,” Moriarty said, gesturing to Damon.
“Raphael. Come with me. We need to go. Now.”
But I couldn’t. All I could do was stare at Moriarty’s ugly, fat face. The victory in his flat, dead eyes. No. I couldn’t leave. I had to hear.
Damon fought them, and a third man joined in to drag him out the door. Moriarty turned to me.
“Your brother already knows the story. It’d probably bore him anyway.”
“Speak your fucking mind, and do it fast.”
“As I was saying, your mother, well, she was a whore. She wanted every man who wanted her—”
I didn’t know if he had more to say. If he was midword. I stopped hearing the moment he called my mother a whore. I lunged, but they expected the move. His men grabbed me by the arms and held me so that I faced that bastard.
Moriarty looked at me. “See, your mother once sat in that very chair,” he said, pointing behind me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
“The first time she came to me, she wanted me to forgive your father’s debt. She knew she’d chosen the wrong man. Knew he was weak.”
“My mother—”
“Offered to do anything.” He drew out the last word.
I grunted with the effort to free myself, but the men held me tight.
“Anything,” he repeated, “See, this is déjà vu, really. But I don’t want you to kneel under my desk and suck my dick, Raphael. I prefer women.”
Fingers bit into my arms as I battled his guards to get to him. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until the life had gone out of him.
“I prefer your mother’s tight little ass bent over my desk. And I did fuck her in the ass. She needed to be taught a lesson—”
“You’re a fucking liar! A goddamned fucking liar!” They held me tight. I heard the click of a gun being cocked and felt the cold steel of it behind my ear.
“I don’t want a mess in my office, boys,” Moriarty said, calm as could be.
He returned his full attention to me.
“See, I did keep my word. I did forgive his debt. That time. But your father didn’t learn. When she came to me again, well, there’s just so much a man can do for used-up old pussy, isn’t there?”
Rage throbbed inside me, burning hot, pumping my blood with adrenaline. With a roar more animal than human, I tore free from the men who held me and lunged across the desk to fall on top of Moriarty, knocking his chair over, sending him to the floor. I wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed, his fat flesh too thick to snap his neck. His eyes bulged, his face reddened as he struggled to breathe, but before I could kill him, I was dragged off and tossed against the far wall, a fist landing in my gut, then another, then another until I hunched over, gripping my middle. Someone kicked my legs out from under me, and I dropped to the floor. A shoe closed over my throat and held me down when Moriarty came to stand over me, kicking me hard in the kidneys.