Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I let that sink in as silence drops over the room. His brother, the Don of the mafia, was there the night his father died. I can feel the implications crawl along my skin.
“Where do I come into this?”
“There are no coincidences in my world. There are only heartless schemes and blood and pain, and I refuse to believe that my mother burned in that house by mistake. I refuse to believe it, not when my brother and his wife escaped and survived and flourished because of it. What I’m asking of you is simple, little thief. I want you to get close to Charlie, my brother’s wife, and find out what really happened.”
I take a step back and let it wash over me.
I’ll pose as his girlfriend and enter his world all so that I can ingratiate myself with a woman I’ve never met and don’t know at all. He thinks I can somehow find out her secrets and learn the truth about his mother’s death, which I assume he can’t do on this own since his brother and the wife will never tell him. He thinks because I was stupid enough to drug his brother that I’ll be reckless enough to press Charlie for information.
“It’s too much,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s way too much. It’ll never work. What if Charlie hates me? What if she realizes what I’m doing? This could go so wrong so easily.”
“I don’t think it will,” he says and comes toward me. I flash back to the night before—sitting in his lap, his hard cock against my ass, his lips on my throat—and stumble away. He passes by without so much as a glance or a touch and stops beside the kitchen island. “Charlie is isolated. My brother’s lifestyle forces her to keep her social circle extremely small, and I believe she’s desperate for another female friend. Especially now that she has a young child to watch. I think if you approach her the right way, get close to her, tell her something about yourself, then she’ll give you the information we both need.”
“This is insane.” I shake my head, heart racing. “I can’t do this. You want me to manipulate her for you.”
“These aren’t good people.” His voice is cold and hard. “You have to understand that. Charlie comes from a long line of killers and thieves. Her people run Seattle and they don’t do it by giving out hugs and candy.”
“This is your brother we’re talking about. What happened to being protective of him?”
“I’m protective of my family, but only to a point.” He looks back as I can see the pain etched in every line of his face. “My mother’s dead, and I have to know why. You’re going to help me, Gracie, or you’re going to sink to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean and stay there. Do you understand now? You’ve come too far and I won’t let you turn back.” He picks up a manila folder on the counter and flips it open. “One-Ten Taylor Lane, Pineville, West Virginia. Mother’s name is Lucille, married to a man named Todd Martins for the last fifteen years. Gracie Murphy, twenty-two, kept your father’s name which is interesting though I suspect I know why. You went to Pineville High School, got decent grades, went to West Virginia University after doing two years at a local community college, but it says you dropped out your senior year.” He looks up, frowning slightly. “Should I go on?”
I’m standing there and I can’t move, I can’t lift my legs, can’t raise my arms. The coffee mug’s steaming hot in my hands and even the burning heat doesn’t do a thing to break through the sudden fog that descends over me after hearing my rushed biography read out loud like that.
Pineville is a distant memory and a recent nightmare, and now it feels like it’s following me wherever I go, and I’ll never escape the mountains or the forests or the stink of rotting particleboard or the moldy, mildewy showers or the crumbling walkways or the weeds that grew in profusion all around my mother’s house.
“Where did you get all that?” I finally manage to whisper.
“Diego did some research.” He snaps the file shut. “This is only from a single night of digging, but you are who you say you are which wasn’t a guarantee. Should I have him keep going?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t need to do that.”
“What about your cousin? Should I have him look into her?” His eyebrows raise slowly and I feel a slow, horrible stab in my guts.
He’s going to find out, and when he does, I’m not sure how he’ll react.
“Please,” is all I can say.
“Then you understand.” His eyes blaze. I understand. He owns me—wholly, entirely, without reservations. He owns me whether I like it or not.