Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Finally, I take a deep breath and move my fingers over the keyboard.
As soon as I do, the ideas come tumbling out of me.
I feel alive.
Hours pass, and when I look down, I smile; the essay is done.
I skim through it one more time.
It’s good. Solid.
Gideon would be proud of me.
Why does it always go back to him?
It shouldn’t be about him.
“This essay is about me, about my dreams,” I say out loud. “This is about what I want.”
I want Gideon.
How did I get to this point?
And now that I have, what does it mean?
Can I have a future with him?
It’s the same question, over and over again, and I’m getting sick of harping on it.
42
GIDEON
I take a sip of my scotch, and the smooth, smoky liquid slides down my throat. Heat spreads throughout my body, and I savor it. Letting the flavor roll around on my tongue, I close my eyes and let out a sigh.
This day needs to be done.
Nothing would make me happier than to walk the fuck out of this room, find Sasha, and sink deep inside her.
But nope, I’m reclined in my chair, sloshing my drink around, waiting for my guest to arrive.
Lifting the glass back up, I take another gulp.
Meeting with a Russian informant is not how I want to spend my night.
The sound of the doorknob turning and then the door creaking open announces his arrival.
He’s every bit the slimy motherfucker I knew he was.
“Take a seat.” I gesture to the empty chair adjacent to mine.
Nikolai Dobrow strides across the room, his confidence out of place, seeing as if word gets out that he’s here, he’s a dead man walking.
If what he tells me is good intel, he has nothing to worry about. I’ll honor his request. I’ll ensure his safety but also make a position for him in my ranks.
He’ll be watched closely and given no inside information. Once a snitch, always a snitch. If he’s selling out the Russians, he wouldn’t hesitate in doing the same to me.
He’d also die slowly.
“You better not be wasting my time.” I slam my glass down on the table. It makes a loud crashing noise that echoes through the room.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t shatter, and Nikolai doesn’t cower at the show of force.
I respect him more for that.
“I’m not,” he answers, voice strong and unwavering.
“Speak.” I lift my hand up and look at my watch. If he gets to the point, I can be inside firefly within the hour. “Tell me what’s so important that you wanted to talk to me.”
He dips his head before looking back up and meeting my stare head-on. “I have information about the men looking for Roman Lennox’s sister.”
This is what I assumed, but hearing the words still makes my fist clench. Sasha is mine, and knowing anyone wants to hurt her lights a fire inside me.
I want to hurt them. I want to torture the fuckers who would dare to touch what’s mine. My jaw clenches. “And why should I believe you? Why should I believe a fucking word you say? You’ve turned on your own people.”
“I was friends—true friends—with Roman Lennox. What they did to him made me realize that I’m just a number in their ranks. We’re not family. We’re their soldiers, put on the front lines to live and die for them. I’m not willing to die for someone who doesn’t give a fuck about me.”
Interesting. His passion isn’t false. He means what he says. I’m where I am today because I can read people better than anything. This man might not be a waste within my ranks if this checks out.
“And you think it’ll be different under me?” I lift the glass to my mouth, watching him as I take a gulp. I observe him with the eyes of a hawk, looking for any weakness I can exploit. Are there cracks in his armor, a place where he’s vulnerable? When I don’t find anything, I narrow my eyes and lean in. “How did you meet Roman?”
“From our employer,” he answers quickly.
“Your employer. Both of yours?”
“Yes.” There’s no lie in his answer. No fear, either. Nikolai Dobrow meets my gaze steadily, ready to answer my next question.
“And who is your employer?” I knew Roman was buying drugs and knew he was supposedly working for his supplier, but I need it confirmed, and most of all, I need the name.
His shoulders pull back. “Dima Markov.” His voice is strong, much stronger than I expected.
Burning hot rage builds inside me. The man is a monster. I would walk through hell to make sure Sasha never meets the likes of that sadist.
I’m not a good man by any means, but he makes me look like an angel.
Dima Markov has no scruples; he would cut up and torture his own mother if he thought it would make him richer.