Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I think that sank in.
Because all the indignant blood that had been filling his face a second before, it all drained away, leaving nothing but the scared little man who realized that all his connections, all his money, were completely useless to him in this situation.
I liked that.
I let my anger feed on that.
Because this was the kind of man who got his rocks off by taking a woman's power away, taking her choice away.
And he was getting his first real taste of having his own power, his own choice taken away from him. I wanted him to really let that sink in, to really feel how awful that was.
So when I charged at him, yeah, I fucking played with him for a while. The hits were superficial, nothing to do any real damage. I wanted him pissing his pants scared, like he had made women feel in his past, like he had made Kennedy feel before she found a way to get away from him.
"Just a suggestion," Edison cut in when I finally snapped, finally had enough fucking around, when I grabbed the bastard by the front of his shirt and hauled him up. "The bathroom is easier to clean," he added when I looked over.
"Just fucking jealous I got a handful of those full tits of hers," the moron said as I half-dragged him into his enormous master bath.
He was really just signing his own death certificate.
Because I didn't know about that.
I knew he pushed her around and ripped her dress.
She didn't tell me there was any actual sexual violation.
Grabbing her tits? That was a mother fucking violation.
"You got a handful of her tit?" I asked as I tossed him back against his vanity. "Which hand was it? Eh, you know what? I'll just fucking break them both." Then I grabbed the first one, twisting until the crack of bones was drowned out by his howl. After that, I went ahead and followed through with my threat for the other one.
I don't know how long I went at him.
For me, rage was something that burst out of me, but never consumed me.
There though, in that bathroom, with a man who put fear into a woman I cared about, it fucking ate me up. I wasn't even fully aware of what was happening until I felt Edison's arms fold across my chest, yanking me back, and shoving me against the vanity, making me look up and see myself for the first time.
Honestly, my first instinct was almost to laugh.
Because, quite frankly, I looked exactly like that bastard that Kennedy had referred to me as- Niro from Taxi Driver - in the final scene, covered in his and others' blood.
"Think he's good and dead there, frate," Edison said, looking at me over my shoulder. "Can't say I'm not a little disappointed that you didn't tap out so I could have a round or two, but the mother fucker certainly got what was coming to him."
I turned back around, seeing the blood around him like a chalk outline, coming from... who the hell knew where. He was beaten every fucking where. I wasn't even sure what the actual cause of death was.
"Think you pierced a lung with his broken rib," Edison said, crouching down beside his body. "He was doing that death rattle thing, choking on his own blood."
I stood up, taking a breath, smelling nothing but copper.
The plan had been a beating, a con into signing the papers I brought, giving over the ownership of the shop to her.
Had I planned to kill him, fuck, I dunno. Maybe I would have gotten some tips from Luce who practically did it for a living and got away with it.
"Well, I bet this fucker has some black bags somewhere to wrap him up in," Edison announced, still chill as fuck. Honestly, it was almost chilling how calm he was about shit. "Then we'll use a sheet for good measure, cram him into that tiny trunk in your sports car. Well, I'll do all that. Your ass needs to get in that shower and clean up. I'll find some clothes for you. Then I'll get rid of all this blood, vacuum the bedroom. I saw one of those wet mop things in his kitchen; we'll use that on the way out to get rid of any possible treads. Oh, and I'll text that Vance guy from his phone and call off the break-in."
Shit.
Okay.
Maybe Luce wasn't the only bastard in town who knew how to get rid of evidence.
"And the body?" I asked, waving a hand toward it.
Edison shrugged. "I'll take care of it."
"You'll take care of it?" I repeated, brow raised, wanting more than that.
"I have a way," he said, shrugging again. "Trust me, frate, no one will ever know what happened to old mister rapist bastard."