Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
I grip my bag as I walk toward him, where he leans casually against the wall next to my door. I pause as I reach him, back far enough that I could still turn and run but close enough where it doesn’t give him the illusion that I’m scared.
But that’s a lie because I’m fucking petrified of him.
He holds himself in such a manner that you know even when he’s quiet, he would fuck you up.
The stories about him and his brothers in school were terrifying, and when they all left, stories went around that they are contract killers. No one said that out loud, but it was mumbled about.
I don’t know how true any of that is.
I hope it’s not, but I can’t be sure.
I wait for him to speak, but he says nothing. Just watches me, so I start to fidget. I’m not sure what is happening right now.
“Are you here to kill me?” I whisper. His brow rises in surprise.
“Why would I be here to do that?” he asks and leans toward me a little, invading my space. “Do you have a hit on your head I should be aware of? Pissed anyone off lately?”
“Unless it’s my work colleague, then no,” I say with an eye roll. My response must interest him because he stands a little taller.
“You don’t like them?” he asks, and I’m not sure why he’d want to know.
“Why are you here?”
“I took this and thought I’d return it.” He holds out my spare keys. My eyes go wide at the sight of them in his possession. I go to snatch them, but his fingers wrap around mine and hold me in place.
“Give them back.”
“You shouldn’t leave things lying around so easily for people to take,” he warns me. I try to pull my hand back, but he merely smiles. “What’s wrong?”
“Let go of me,” I order, and I’m surprised by the confidence that comes with my words.
“As you wish.” He drops my hand and steps back. “Goodnight, Mayve. I hope work gets better for you.” He steps past me, and I stand there frozen with my bag in my hand. Once I hear his footsteps echoing down the stairs, I expel the breath I’d been holding and hurry into my apartment and lock the door.
Six
Kenzo
“Where have you been?” Kyson asks me as I enter his house. I head straight for Lyla, Kyson’s daughter, who is wiggling on the floor. I pick her up, and she smiles at me and then proceeds to blow raspberries on my cheek.
Who would have thought I would like a kid?
Not me, that’s for damn sure.
“Out,” I reply vaguely.
“For the last few days?” he questions before he walks over holding out his phone, I watch as the dark screen comes to light, and I watch as I see her, dressed in her Mrs. Incredible outfit standing there still, as if she is frozen in place. Then I watch as she runs off, and as I just stand there, watching her go as the sirens grow louder. I was fascinated then. But then I heard the sounds of footsteps again, I watch the video that my brother is showing me and smirk knowing what is to come. I had just finished a hit in that house, and here were two stupid men wanting to scare a woman, one of them lay on the ground with a bullet in their head, the other. Well he is running at me with a bat, I watch it all as if it was a movie, even though I lived every second of it, I side step and when I do I trip him, he falls face first into the ground, his face hitting first his hands not fast enough to catch him, I step back closer and reach for his hair. He grunts as I thread my fingers through his hair gripping it hard and lift, you can see me get closer but you can’t hear what leaves my lips. “She’s mine.” This, just before I repeatedly slam his face into the concrete. Blood oozes, and I step back to make sure none gets on my boots and before I smile, Kyson turns it off.
“I moved,” I inform him changing the subject, it works. I won’t even ask where he got that video from, and as soon as I leave I’ll erase its existence everywhere it could be found.
“You what?” he asks, baffled. “You love your house.”
“No. Pops picked that house. And now I hate it.”
Kyson studies me. He knows what’s happening and knows I haven’t decided to make a move on Pops yet.
Pops, the man who trained us to be who we are and who we all thought of as a father figure, is now turning against us. Though I doubt he would ever admit to it. And we haven’t brought it up to Pops either—we’re letting it simmer to see what will come of it.