Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I feel no pity for her.
“Ask,” she says.
“Who paid you to poison my mother?”
She doesn’t speak. Not at first. She looks at her lap then back to me and down again like she can’t decide where to train her gaze. The seconds tick past, and I’m tempted to speak, but I can feel her slowly starting to crack. Her knees bounce and she huddles up tighter into a ball until finally she grunts and glares at me.
“I didn’t give her anything, okay? I want to be clear about that.”
“Eunika.” I raise the pistol.
“He made the tea. Each day he made it, and I knew it was strange. I could smell the stuff, yes? But my paycheck doubled after that first week, and it kept growing after that, and I decided not to ask questions. It wasn’t my place to ask questions. Cormac came with his tea tray and he’d sit down with Goldie and they’d talk about the old days. She’d drink, and he’d pour himself a whiskey and sip on that, and they’d laugh for a while, and he’d leave and she’d be happy for an hour or so afterwards, but then she’d feel sick and have to sleep. I never questioned, but I should have. I should have stopped it.
“Cormac’s visits slowed but then Hugh began showing up. That was around the time she gave him power of attorney. Same thing, he never drank the tea, only she drank it. I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve said something. But I have family back home in Belarus, cousins and uncles and so many people, and all this money was saving their lives. Too many people depended on me that I couldn’t speak. I held my tongue even when I knew it was wrong. The money helped my family and I told myself I could burn in hell if it meant saving them from starvation, so I kept my mouth shut. Now I know what they were doing, and I wish I hadn’t. I’m sorry.”
Finn whistles a tuneless tune and I glare at him. He smiles and stops.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Eunika rubs her face, fingers shaking. “I don’t know. The same reason you haven’t done it yet, maybe? You know it was never me.”
“You could have helped her. You had a duty.”
“I failed. I know that.”
I slowly stand, the gun aimed at Eunika’s head. She whispers a prayer in a language I don’t know and bows her face down, shaking violently. Her hands are clenched, and she’s groaning. Finn watches me silently. He won’t stop me if this is what I want.
She deserves it. Eunika might not have been the one to feed my mother the poison, but she knew about it on some level. She let it happen. She could’ve said something, done something, but she kept silent, all for money. All for her family.
I lower the gun.
I want to kill her, but I know it won’t solve anything. It won’t fix the mistakes I’ve made or go back and reverse the damage done to my mother.
It’ll be a petty revenge and nothing more.
Besides, Tara would be angry. She’d say more blood won’t fix a thing. Eunika’s just another victim like the rest of us.
I’m not sure I agree, but it stays my hand.
A year ago, I would’ve killed her without a second thought.
Maybe this means I’m growing.
“Come on,” I say to Finn and walk to the door.
Eunika releases a pent-up sob. She’s crying as we leave. I close the door and Finn grins at me in the hall.
“Go ahead. Fucking say it.”
“I was right.” Finn sighs and leans his head back. “Fuck, yes, I love saying that.”
“Asshole. Come on. I have a cousin to kill and a wife to bring home.”
Chapter 28
Tara
The smell of day-old chocolate chips, the hum of ice cream makers, the buzz of fluorescent lighting and the low pulse of pop music is basically my hell. I smile at the demon sent to torture me, also known as Janet, and weigh her teeny-tiny little cup of barely a squirt of frozen yogurt. “That’ll be $2.65, please.”
She makes a face and prods at the cup. “Seriously? Almost three dollars for this? It’s, like, nothing.”
“I don’t really control the pricing.”
Her mouth falls open and she gives me this look like she can’t believe what I’m saying. “We’re the only people here. Just let me have it.”
“Janet, this is my job. You want me to move out, right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Then don’t try to get me fired.”
“Fine, god, you’re so freaking lame, Tara. No wonder your dad moved all the way out here.” She throws her card at me. I fumble it, grab it from the floor, swipe it, and hand her the receipt and the card.
“Enjoy,” I say sweetly.
She rolls her eyes, stomps to the table by the window, puts on headphones, and ignores me while she swipes through her phone and eats her froyo.