Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“Like my soul,” I whisper menacingly as I follow him up, looking around the space. “And my name, ironically.” There are clothes strewn over the banister, some on the floor. “The kitchen was a state too. Messy fuckers.”
“Your mum would have a fit.”
I chuckle, taking some more coffee. “This is good coffee though.”
“Not as nice as Esther’s tea, surely?”
“Never,” I reply, disgusted. Nothing beats Mum’s tea.
James stops at a door, pushing it open a little, and the sound of running water gets louder. He looks at me, flicks his head, and I take his prompt, walking into the bedroom. The bed’s unmade. It’s a lovely house, but mess everywhere. Have they no pride in it?
I walk toward the bathroom and peek into the steam-filled room. The shower screen is fogged, giving me only a silhouette of Bean, nothing clear. But I can hear him very clearly.
Grunting.
Moaning.
I look back at James, my eyebrows probably blending with my hairline. He’s mildly shaking his head, disbelief a blanket on his face. I lower to the toilet seat, coffee in my left hand, gun in my right, and cross one leg over the other, while Bean continues to grunt and . . . squeak. He’s fucking squeaking.
“Are you wanking off, Bean?”
“Fuck!” A collection of clatters rings around the bathroom, and I wince when an ear-piercing bang sounds. Bean taking a tumble. He lands on his back, his head, conveniently, at the right end to see me.
I lift my cup. “Morning.”
“Jesus Christ.” He scrambles to his feet, not reaching for a towel, but instead reaching for his gun belt on the sink. The gun belt that has no gun in it. My smile widens as James lifts Bean’s weapon, his finger in the trigger ring, making it dangle.
Bean’s face falls more, and this time he opts for a towel, snatching one down from the heated rail and covering himself. He’s a bit soft around the middle. Receding. Pushing fifty. A poor excuse for bristle. As ugly in the flesh as he is in the photograph. He doesn’t ask who I am. There’s no need, so I skip the introductions. “Tell me, Bean,” I say, remaining on my arse, still enjoying my coffee. “Were you jerking off to your wife or Mandy?”
His face.
It’s faces like these I wish I could collect. “Fuck,” he whispers.
“Let’s have a little chat.” James steps back from the door rather than manhandling Bean’s wet, naked body into the bedroom.
“Off you trot,” I sing, smirking at James when he looks at me tiredly. “What?” I’ve missed this fun. “Sit your arse down.”
Bean flops onto the bed, arranging his towel. His dignity is the least of his problems. “How’s your boy getting on at school?”
“Oh fuck, please. Leave Preston out of this.”
“Tell that to my son. He’s currently polishing my lovely gold letter opener.” I kneel, all amusement gone, my face twisting with utter contempt for this piece of shit. “You got my kid thrown out of school. I should rip your fucking guts out.” I rise and swipe at his face with the handle of my gun, sending him to his back on a blood-curdling crack. “That was mistake number one.” I smash the coffee cup on the edge of the nightstand and pick up a jagged blade of porcelain. “Nice cups, by the way. Look expensive.”
“Shit, please, no.” Bean scrambles across the bed minus one towel, and James walks around, meeting him on the other side.
“Don’t make me touch you,” James warns, pushing his gun into Bean’s forehead. He scrambles back to the middle.
“The grass isn’t greener over there, my friend.”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll back off. Please, please don’t hurt me.”
“Mistake number two,” I say, holding my makeshift blade up and inspecting it.
“Danny, please.”
I turn my stare away from the blade. “You may call me Mr. Black.” I grab his ankle and haul him toward me, slamming the blade into his thigh, just shy of his main artery. I’m not an unreasonable man. I know I can’t kill a cop in his home and get away with it, but I can torture the fucker and get away with it. Because I can guarantee he won’t utter my name ever again. I also have Mandy as a backup. Today’s going well.
“You’ve been in touch with someone very dear to me, Bean.” I twist the makeshift blade, and he chokes more. “My nephew.”
He stills, looking at me with wide eyes. “What?”
“You thought you could force information out of him for your silence?”
“No, I—”
“Bad, bad move, Bean.” I pull the blade out of his leg, spiking a suppressed scream. “How would your wife feel knowing you looked after Nolan’s mother? And your department. Bet they’d love to know.”
“Oh, Christ,” he mumbles, sniffing, wiping at his nose.
I throw him the towel. “Cover yourself up. I can’t concentrate with your limp dick staring me in the face.”