Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
God, I wish Nero would’ve gotten here before them.
Slaughtering my stepfamily and taking me back home would be easy.
The fuss over losing them non-existent.
Clean up minimal.
However, having these two here complicates things to a brand. New. Level.
Nero can’t just kill them and go on his merry way.
There are huge consequences for murdering men in their position.
I know he knows that.
I just hope he doesn’t get so blinded by rage that he forgets it.
Chapter Nine
Nero
Fuck, I hate the woods.
There’s a reason my construction business builds homes that are directly on the beach or not far from it.
I like sand not muddy soil.
I like palm trees not pine.
And the insect situation out here has me tempted to waste bullets just to keep them from coming near me.
Murdering these assholes for kidnapping my wife was enough.
I’ll be adding a bit of extra torture for each bug bite I get.
Slapping another creature that touches my neck is done on an exasperated huff. “Why couldn’t the safehouse have been in the middle of the fucking city?”
Mickie hits me with an amused grin upon our creeping closer to the structure. “You’ve got too many connections there, Boss. She would’ve been easier to rescue. Out here, it’s at least a bit of a challenge.”
A challenge that became a slightly bigger one when her tracking chip stopped working.
Fact of the matter is, I shouldn’t be facing fucking challenges.
I should be feeding Elle cocktail shrimp while cleverly reminding her which DeLuca is which, not traipsing through mud or bear shit to put an end to the pain in the ass known as the Tremaines.
Our footsteps slow down significantly upon our final approaching of the cabin. Its design doesn’t leave many options for sneak attacks, but I have no doubt we’ll manage to seize an open opportunity. The Marshalls may be cautious, but the Tremaines are sloppy.
That’s what got them into this mess.
Gave me Elle.
Their sloppy, self-destructive nature led me to the missing piece of my life once. I have a gut feeling it’ll do it twice.
Our bodies become flush against the backside of the cabin near the deck. Cautiously, I peer around the edge of the roof being careful to avoid the window in case anyone is occupying the kitchen.
While the area seems clear, at least one of the badge bastards is within hearing distance. “I’m gonna step outside for a smoke and see if I can reach Ortiz on the sat phone. Signal jammer shouldn’t be fucking with it but who knows. This old piece of shit might not even work like it’s supposed to.”
Can’t comment on the phone, but the signal jammer fucking does.
Elle’s anklet tracker cut off a small distance from this cabin. Special Agent Perrault came through with the information we needed regarding it being a safehouse they use for witnesses prior to promising that once we got my wife out, he’d help cover up the rest.
On the condition, of course, that his bank account reflected his last-minute cooperation.
At this point, I’d give up my entire DeLuca fortune just to have my woman safely back in my arms.
“Check on the witnesses upstairs. See if the woman’s ready to talk yet.”
Sounds of footsteps approaching indicates our small window to act is now open. My head tips that direction for Mickie to take point. He nods in acknowledgement and slides past me to make the first move. The Marshall’s frame barely has time to settle against the wood railing before Mickie’s tie is slung around his neck. One hard yank tips him backwards over the edge of the deck to where I’m waiting to neutralize the threat. His back hits the ground on a loud thud, yet his lowered jaw never releases a scream due to my blade being shoved into the side of his neck. Gurgles are accompanied by the sight of blood oozing to the space underneath our feet. We watch in tandem. In silence. Our figures stay still and stealth to avoid alerting the other law member of the danger about to creep its way in. Once the twitching of our victim has stopped, I remove my knife while Mickie lifts up the man’s shirt, investigating his armor situation. The sight of a vest isn’t surprising; however, it provides a valuable announcement.
Headshots only.
Quietly, the two of us trek our way into the cabin using the back door the Marshall used to exit. It leaks us into a tiny kitchen that provides a clear view to the front side of the home. Adam’s lounging couch nature makes him an easy target. His stretched-out position on his stomach as he flips through an old magazine presents me with an opportunity for a quick kill. I wordlessly motion for Mickie to go around the other way to check for additional targets and execute my attack.
Reaching Adam on the couch is done in three large steps. My first stab through the back pierces a kidney. Sending his body into immediate shock – the point of the blow – not only prevents him from releasing screams, it leaves him powerless to fight back.