Saint Read Online A. Zavarelli books (Boston Underworld #4)

Categories Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Crime, Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
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He smiles back, and there’s humor in his eyes.

“What gave me away?”

“If it walks like a SEAL and talks like a SEAL, then it’s probably a fucking SEAL.”

“Not anymore,” he says.

“I figured as much,” I tell him. “With the bum leg and all.”

“You don’t miss much, do you?”

“The only thing I missed is what you’re doing here, in this bar, sitting here beside me.”

“Alright.” He folds the napkin beneath the beer in his hands while he talks. “I just thought you should know Quinn won’t be here this evening.”

This banter has lost its appeal.

“Let me guess. He hired you as personal security. What a goddamn joke.”

I get up to leave, but he reaches for my arm and stops me. When I glare at him, however, he removes it quickly.

“I’m not his security,” the stranger tells me. “In fact, he doesn’t know me at all. But I know you, Tenly. Or do you prefer Scarlett?”

There is no malice in his voice. But I am rattled nonetheless.

“What is this about?”

“I’d like to tell you,” he says. “In a more private setting, if you don’t mind.”

I’m about to tell him to fuck right off when he flashes a badge at me.

Fucking FBI.

“Do I have a choice?” I ask. “And will there be anyone else there?”

“You can trust me,” he says. “I’m not like Royce.”

I want to leave. But something in his eyes keeps my feet firmly planted in place. The funny thing is, I do believe he’s one of the good guys, even if he’s about to make my day hell. And I also believe, I’m probably going to want to hear what he has to say.

I give him a small nod, and he retrieves his jacket, gesturing for me to follow him.

We take the elevator up to the roof.

“And this is the part where you murder me, right?”

He shakes his head and closes the door behind us, making a point to show me it’s not locked.

“You can leave at any time you don’t feel safe.”

I cross my arms and look out over the city, waiting for him to tell me why he dragged me up here in the first place.

“My name is Booker Cayce, if you want to know.”

“You obviously know mine already,” I answer.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Royce for some time now,” he tells me.

“So I guess that means you’ve been keeping an eye on me too.”

He nods.

“That still doesn’t explain how you know about his friends. I never told anyone.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says. “Royce has notes of his own.”

Notes?

Jesus, I don’t even want to think that could be real.

“How can I be sure that any of what you are saying is even true?” I ask him. “I mean, do they even let amputees into the FBI academy?”

“There was a case a few years ago,” he tells me. “A wounded veteran. It set a precedent. As long as I am fully capable of performing my duties, then it’s not an issue.”

It sounds legit, but I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of this guy at all.

“Why were you watching Royce?” I ask.

“I had suspicions about him. Most were unsubstantiated. I didn’t want to bring them forward to the bureau until I was certain.”

“And you are telling me this why?”

I know why, but fuck. I need to hear him say it. I need him to tell me how screwed I am.

“I don’t blame you for wanting them dead,” he says. “They deserve it, for what they did to you.”

I stare past him, so I don’t have to see his eyes. So I don’t have to witness the expression on his face while he talks about my past.

“I don’t know what happened to Ethan,” he continues, “but I highly suspect it wasn’t a robbery. And as for Trip? His overdose is questionable, but not unlikely either, given his history of drug abuse.”

I wait for the hammer to fall. Either he’s going to blackmail me, or he’s going to send me packing in an orange jumpsuit.

“Royce is growing reckless. And he has a pervasive obsession with you that’s only getting worse by the day.”

I do meet his gaze this time. And I put it into words he can understand.

“You’ve been to war,” I say. “You know some people are so fucked in the head the only humane thing to do is put them down.”

“That might be true,” he agrees. “But this isn’t a war zone, Tenly. And I can’t allow you to kill him.”

I feel it happening. The bricks and mortar of my carefully constructed house of revenge crumbling in on themselves. He’s taking this away from me, and I hate him for it.

“So what do you suggest?” I bite back. “Just let him kill me? That’s the way these things usually end. You want to tell me to get a restraining order and wave it in his face when he comes for me?”



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