Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“You’re coming down from the adrenaline. That’s normal.”
“Is it normal to watch a man get shot in the street?”
“For most people? Probably not, no.”
Another silence. I try to imagine her face and eyes, the sorrow and exhaustion, the confusion and anger. She wanted this, but I don’t think she understood what this meant. How people like me live on the edge. I made peace with a violent end a long time ago and know that one day my time will come, but my skills and perseverance ensure that time is still far in the future.
“I want you to teach me.”
I frown and lean my head against the cracked door. “Teach you what?”
“How to fight. How to do what you did.”
“You want to learn how to kill?”
“Yes,” she says and I barely hear her.
“You don’t want that.”
“I’m tired of being a victim, Peter. I’m so fucking tired of standing around waiting for someone else to fix things for me. I want to fight. I want to kill, if it comes to that. I want you to teach me.”
The shower keeps running. I want to step into the bathroom and stare at her wet body but hold myself back. The idea of training her is so absurd I almost want to laugh, except the deep, devastating sincerity in her voice breaks my fucking heart.
“I can do that,” I say.
“I want to start soon. I’m tired, Peter. Really fucking tired.”
“Come out of the shower and go to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I’m not sure I will.”
I want to tell her everything will be okay, but why lie to her? We’re trying to set up a heroin smuggling connection between Greece and France. It’s extremely possible we’re going to end up dead in the street or thrown into prison to rot for the rest of our lives.
“We’re meeting with Reina tomorrow. Make sure you get some sleep.” I step back, close the door and linger for a moment, listening.
After a second, the water stops running.
I smile to myself.
She wants to learn how to fight. She’s tired of being a victim.
I can do that for her, but I’m not sure she understands what it means to fight and what you lose when you win.
Chapter 8
Adrienne
Reina takes a long drag on her cigarette and points at me. “This is bullshit. C’est des foutaises. I never agreed to working with her.”
“You don’t have any other choice,” Peter says, leaning forward to cut me off before I can bite off all the nasty insults I have rattling around in my head.
Reina looks tired. Thick black bags hang under her eyes. She’s thin, athletic, normally pretty, but her hair is messy and her clothes look slept-in, like she’s perpetually on the run and hungover.
“Even if you get me on board, my bosses in Le Milieu might not be okay with sharing their plans and secrets with this—” She waves her hand at me and takes another drag. “You know what you are asking then, yes? You want to risk the whole job for her?”
“Adrienne is my employee now,” Peter says calmly. “I suggest you put aside your personal feelings and deal with it.”
I smile at her sweetly. “It’ll be so nice to work with you, sister.”
Reina rolls her eyes.
“D’accord,” she says and slumps back. “Fine. You win. The girl stays. Can we get down to business then, s’il vous plait?”
“By all means,” Peter says, giving her a smug smirk that quickly fades. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”
“What, did you and my sister finally make love?” Her eyebrows quirk.
I feel myself blush. “No,” I say quickly, and the look she levels at me makes my jaw snap shut, like I’m some foolish prude that can’t take a joke.
“We were jumped leaving Balaska’s club,” Peter says, ignoring her comment. “Two guys. Local Greeks. Balaska says he doesn’t know who they are.”
“Tried to kill you?”
“More or less. I shot one and he bled out. Balaska says he caught the other.”
“Bon, that’s good. He’ll make him talk.” Reina scowls at the table. “I’ve been getting harassed ever since I came to this damn country. The cops mostly. Following me everywhere, haunting me like fucking ghosts.”
“I can talk to Balaska about it.”
“Fine, do what you need to do, but I can take care of myself.” She shoots him a poisonous look. “Only saying, you’re right that someone has it out for us. Someone in Greece doesn’t want us to become friends.”
“We’ll figure out who and make sure we stop them.”
“That’s your job. I’m a guest here, yes? Now you handle it. Okay, fine, we discussed the ugly bits. Where did we leave off during our last meeting?”
“I believe we were discussing transportation.”
I sit back and listen as Peter and Reina talk about how they’re going to collect the goods, pack them, and move them from Marseille to Athens. They go over shipping lanes, friendly boat captains and container companies, but eventually rule it out. “The Greeks love to levy taxes on their imports,” Peter says and drums his fingers on the table.