Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Is this journey down memory lane supposed to circle back to some lesson about my killing Francesca?”
“It is to say that perhaps she may need to die, but many of Crimson Mob could be innocent.”
I sneered. “I sat in that prison and none from Crimson Mob came.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure about that?”
I shrugged.
“Iku and I came.”
I tensed.
“They said that you were refusing visitors. You isolated yourself even more than the prison could.”
I looked away.
“Why? Pride? Feeling like a victim?”
“I was pissed.”
“And sad.”
Sighing, I took off the coat and lay it against the table. “Do you mind if I change here?”
“I assume you need a new suit.”
“I do.”
He nodded. “I will check the Fashion section for something in your size. What other books are you interested in reading?”
I considered my new mission for today. Fear twisted in my heart, but I would have to do it.
I cleared my throat. “I’m going to see Zuri.”
“You should. She missed you, and ended up leaving town.” He scowled at me.
“Either way,” I cleared my throat. “How about taking me to the. . .steamy romance section as well as helping me find a. . .children’s book?”
“Oh.” He blinked.
I could see the gears turning in his mind as he absorbed my request.
“Children’s section?” He repeated with a hint of surprise in his voice, but also an unmistakable glimmer of joy in his eyes. “Well, that’s a turn of events, Dante. Change first, and I will take you to those sections.”
“Good.”
Yū grinned. “I hope that after you get your revenge I will be able to meet the bearer of that children’s gift.”
“We will see.” I began to head off and stopped myself. “Oh. By the way, would you happen to have a doll called Foxie Cherry?”
Yū chuckled softly. The lines around his eyes crinkled with amusement. “I have an arsenal that could arm a small army, gadgets that spies would kill for, and relics that belong in museums. But the Foxie Cherry doll? That, my friend, is an enigma even I haven’t been able to solve.”
“Damn it.”
“During Christmas, a popular doll can be more elusive than the most sought-after weapon.” He shrugged and headed off. “It’s a strange world we live in, Dante.”
An hour later, I left the bookstore, carrying tons of wrapped gifts.
Anthony waited by the car with his eyes instantly drawn to my new attire. A smirk spread across his face as he opened the door for me. “Nice outfit.”
I nodded.
“We’re still heading to Paradise City?”
“Yes.”
“Then, Paradise City, it is.”
Chapter 7
The Singing Hitman
For the whole ride to Paradise City, Anthony’s rendition of Christmas carols filled the car.
His voice soared, threading harmonies into the air.
And I found myself slowly succumbing to the unexpected magic of his singing. The hum of the engine and the whisper of the tires on Caviar Lime Highway seemed to blend seamlessly with his melodies.
His rendition of Christmas carols, each note more harmonious than the last, transformed the cramped space into a cathedral of sound. At first, I sat there, stoic, a fortress against the tide of music, my head a tumult of thoughts and emotions. But as Anthony’s voice climbed the scales of ‘Ave Maria,’ something within me shifted.
His high notes were like crystalline drops of sound, each one shattering the silence of my internal storm. They were pure, almost ethereal, resonating with a clarity that seemed to pierce through the fog in my mind. The car, the highway, everything around us faded into a backdrop for his voice, which became the only anchor in my swirling sea of thoughts.
In that moment, listening to Anthony, I felt a transformation within.
The hard shell of my resolve, my guarded emotions, began to crack, melting under the warmth of his voice. It was as if each note he sang was a key, unlocking chambers in my heart that I had long since sealed shut. The beauty of his singing was undeniable, transcendent, turning a simple car ride into a moment of unexpected revelation and emotional awakening.
And despite the heaviness in my chest, I smiled. “You’ve got a hidden talent there.”
He stopped singing and began tapping the steering wheel. “Just one of the many skills in my repertoire.”
“I see.”
Grinning, Anthony effortlessly switched lanes. “I always thought if the whole gangster gig didn’t work out, I could have a future as a singer.”
“Bullshit.”
“Hey, man. I could be a famous Christmas Carol Crooner.”
I tried not to, but I couldn’t help but chuckle. “One of Shadow Height’s most feared mobsters turned holiday singer. Now that’s a headline.”
He laughed, his voice filling the car. “Yeah, imagine that. ‘From Guns to Carols: The Anthony Soprano Story.’”
“Not bad. Maybe, I’ll be your manager.” I attempted a joke. “We’ll make a killing in album sales.”
“Killing, huh?” Anthony took the exit to the South of Paradise. “I see what you did there.”